


Looking Into the Abyss

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Complications, Emotions, F/F, Gonna warn you now this will get dark, Hobson's Choice, Lies, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, Sign Language, Slipstream Accident, Talon!Mercy, Talon!Tracer, Trust, Uprising, injuries, talon au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 68,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: They’d told Angela that the Caduceus technology would never be weaponized.They’d lied.They’d promised Lena that Overwatch would find a way to bring her home.They’d lied.Sometimes you must do the unthinkable to accomplish the impossible.





	1. Failed Experiment

Angela felt the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. That was how it always started.

The ionization of the air seemed to be a side effect of the chronal distortions, and as it reached some critical point, the air sang with a sound like a steel cable being sliced, and there she was.

Sometimes Lena Oxton - Tracer, as her squadron had nicknamed her - appeared in strange outfits. Punk gear. Period clothes. A chef’s coat. Running togs. On one memorable occasion, an elf costume.

But generally she was still wearing the flight suit she’d been issued for the _Slipstream_ test flight, and that was how she appeared today, as if she’d been stopping by the medical wing for her pre-flight physical.

She watched as Tracer’s face went from confusion to relief as she recognized where she was, then turned back to a sort of resigned horror as she attempted to cross the floor to where Angela stood and ended up walking _through_ one of the patient beds with a sort of crackling sound.

Tracer attempted to speak to her, but it was unintelligible - her voice going from incredibly high pitched, sped up falsetto to a ridiculously low, lugubrious sound as it slowed in the middle of words, like someone was twisting a dial and trying in vain to find the correct speed setting.

Angela shook her head to make it clear she didn’t understand, and Tracer sighed, frustration flickering across her face before she raised her hands.

_How long this time?_

Angela hadn’t needed to use sign language regularly since medical school, so it had taken her a bit of practice to pick it back up again.

_It’s been six months since your accident. This is your second visit in three days. The last one lasted about ten minutes._

Lena nodded, her face resigned.

_Winston still hasn’t cracked it?_

Angela carefully schooled her expression into a hopeful smile. She didn’t dare tell Lena the truth.

_Still working on it. Don’t worry - we will get you home!_

Lena beamed back at her.

_Thanks Doctor. When I get home I am giving you a BIG hug!_

Angela kept her mask in place as Lena’s body began to ripple and twist, growing slowly more transparent.

_I won’t give up on you, Lena._

_I know. I know. I -_

Gone.

Angela slumped against her desk, and let the tears track down her cheeks as the mask splintered and cracked apart.

She looked at the memo on her desk.

 **FROM: Strike Commander J. Morrison**  
** TO: Chief Medical Officer A. Ziegler**

**Effective this date (MAY 24, 2068), you are to cease all work related to PROJECT SLIPSTREAM. We no longer have the time or funds to waste on a failed experiment.**

**-MORRISON**

**CC: WINSTON, G.Reyes, A.Amari, T.Lindholm**

 

Today was July 9th.

* * *

Angela kept her back ramrod straight as she sat in the Strike Commander’s guest chair. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Commander.”

She hadn’t called him Jack in months. She hadn’t even used his last name in the last few weeks as their communication had become increasingly limited to memos, emails, and terse exchanges during the weekly staff meeting.

Morrison looked old, despite his SEP enhancements. Grey had begun creeping into the roots of his golden hair, and the lines of his face had grown progressively deeper. The bags under his eyes and a pallid slack around his cheeks were obvious markers for poor quality sleep - and very little of it. _Is your guilty conscience keeping you awake, commander?_

_Good._

“You’re welcome, Angela.” Jack gave her what he must have thought was a friendly smile. It came off as something more like a cadaver’s rictus, making her stomach turn. “I was hoping we could work through the...difficulties...we’ve had lately.”

Angela carefully folded her hands in her lap, doing her best to appear approachable. “I’d like that. I don’t enjoy working in a hostile environment, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

Something that might have been pain flickered in the back of Jack’s eyes before he sat back in his chair. “Gabe said something very similar to me, recently.”  
  
_That’s interesting._

“I think we have to acknowledge the elephant in the room.” Angela gestured in the general direction of her lab. “Lena Oxton. She’s been appearing in and around this facility for almost nine months now. Nine months that could have been spent attempting to stabilize her condition - to free her from such a terrible existence.” She thought of the pain in the girl’s eyes every time she realized she was still trapped in purgatory, and shuddered. “It’s _barbaric_ , Jack. To consign her to some kind of... _half life_. What kind of monsters are we?”

Morrison’s face hardened, his eyes turning glacial. “We’re not monsters, Angela. But the UN has been dramatically reducing our resources since the incident in Japan, and the entire situation with Lacroix...I don’t have to tell you what sort of shitstorm _that_ stirred up.”

 _No, you don’t. But the Slipstream predated_ both _of those._

_Excuses. How typical._

The commander stood, turning to face the broad window behind his desk. “We poured _billions_ into the _Slipstream_ prototype because we believed it would revolutionize our work. Make Overwatch the last word in protecting the world from threats like Null Sector and Talon. But with the loss of the fighter - and, yes, the pilot - a lot of people want to know what we were doing wasting those funds. I simply cannot continue to allow you or Winston to keep pursuing a dead end when we’ve already being bled dry.”

Angela scowled. “Perhaps the fighter might not have _been_ lost if you hadn’t ordered Winston to perform a teleportation test flight against his recommendations.”

Anger began to creep into the commander’s voice, and she could see his cheeks darkening in his reflection. “Winston reported _minor_ instabilities that he _claimed_ had a low probability of affecting the teleportation matrix in flight. _IF_ we had been able to take evidence of a successful test flight back to the Security Council, we _might_ have been able to get additional funding for the program and move to full production.” Morrison turned, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I ordered that bird into the air because it was time to put up or shut up. It is not my fault that Winston and his team failed to prepare it adequately.”

Angela stood, shaking her head. She should have known this would be a waste of time. “I take it that is your final decision, then? To leave that girl in constant torture for the sake of your _budget?”_

“I am not proud of some of the choices I have had to make,” the commander ground out, “but I _am_ in command, and that means I _am_ responsible for making them. If you don’t like it, Doctor Ziegler, you are welcome to leave this organization at any time.”

_Yes. Perhaps I am at that._

“Very well.” Angela stood and saluted him - after all, he _did_ insist he was her superior officer. “May I be dismissed, _commander?”_

She could almost see the Strike Commander’s hopes for rapprochement die in his eyes. “Good evening, doctor.”

* * *

Angela locked the door to her office and sat down in her chair.

Morrison had a point about resources. Even though Winston had felt he was close to a breakthrough when funding had been pulled and his lab shut down, it would take a great deal of money, power, and equipment to bring Oxton fully back to reality and keep her there.

Only so many organizations had access to everything that would be needed to accomplish that...and even fewer would be willing to do so knowing that Overwatch would be actively opposed to the project.

Really, only three stood out: Vishkar Corporation, Volskaya Industries...and Talon.

The corporate entities had no reason to touch this, since it was unlikely to lead to anything monetizable.

That left one option, really. If she was willing to take it.

“Athena?”

The AI sounded a soft chime to show she was ‘listening’ before her synthesized voice came down from the hidden speakers in her office ceiling. “Yes, Doctor?”

“I’d like some privacy for the next few hours, please.”

It was odd to think of a being who could think in the space of milliseconds as hesitant, but there seemed to be a touch of that in Athena’s voice.

“Are you sure, Angela? You seemed quite agitated when you spoke to the Strike Commander. Given the subject of your...discussion...perhaps you and Winston could -”

Angela looked sharply up at the ceiling. “No, thank you. I’d really prefer to be alone.”

No surprise the AI had been eavesdropping. She’d been as friendly with Lena as Winston had been once the pilot had joined the project. She clearly expected Angela wanted to mourn, and her programming would suggest the company of others to aid in the grieving process.

Angela had helped Winston write most of Athena’s medical and psychological resource modules, after all.

“I understand. Engaging privacy protocols.”

Angela didn’t bother thanking the AI - with the protocols engaged, she would no longer be able to hear or see her.

She plugged in a portable drive and began transferring all of her work files and confidential research documents to it. Then all of the Project Slipstream archive files, and the research Winston had begun on how to retrieve Lena from...wherever she was, now.

_I won’t let you be trapped there, Lena._

_No matter what._

Once the transfers were in progress, she opened a text editor, and began to code.

* * *

**FROM: Chief Medical Officer A. Ziegler  
TO: Strike Commander J. Morrison**

**SUBJ: Letter of Resignation**

**Commander,**

**I hereby resign from the position of Chief Medical Officer, effective immediately**

**-Angela Ziegler, M.D. FACS**

**CC: G. Reyes, A. Amari, T. Lindholm, WINSTON**

Writing the resignation letter had taken no time at all - and given her a surprising feeling of lightness. Like a burden that had been slipped off of her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized she was carrying.

The worm program had taken quite a bit longer, but in her much improved mood, it hadn’t felt like a chore. It had been quite a while since she’d felt like she’d pulled such a productive all nighter, in fact, and it left her feeling excited and a little nostalgic for the days when she’d been perfecting her nanotech and the Valkyrie system, or some of her more pleasant residency rotations.

_Really, I should have done this after I found out about that damned rifle._

They’d told Angela that the Caduceus technology would never be weaponized.

They’d lied.

They’d told Lena the _Slipstream_ ’s drive system was as safe as they could make it.

They’d lied.

They’d told Angela that Overwatch would devote themselves to bringing peace and helping those in need now that the Crisis was over.

They’d lied.

They’d promised Lena that Overwatch would find a way to bring her home.

_They’d lied._

She let the file transfers finish, then collected the drive and placed it into her purse.

She opened the locker in her office where she stored her staff and the Valkyrie suit’s components, and began breaking them down for transport, packing them into hard sided cases she kept for that purpose.

She’d been about to take them out to her car when the hair stood up on her neck.

She waited for Lena to turn around and face her, then began to sign.

_Lena, I need to tell you the truth…_

Fifteen minutes later she left her office with her purse slung over her shoulder and the transport cases in her hands.

No one even questioned what she was doing when she put them into the trunk of her car.

She drove to a hotel on the opposite side of town from her apartment, and paid cash for her room.

Twenty seconds after Jack Morrison opened her resignation letter, Overwatch no longer had any data on the Caduceus, nanosurgeons, teleportation technology, or the Valkyrie suit.

They lost the ability to manufacture the field nanobiotic first aid packs she’d designed.

Torbjörn’s blueprints and design notes for the biotic rifle system were completely corrupted.

Winston would find all of his research on Chronal energy wiped, and major blocks of Athena’s memory missing.

They would be so focused on the lost medical and scientific data that Angela expected it would take them weeks to realize that all of the Blackwatch files on Talon had also been destroyed.

As Overwatch descended into chaos Angela drove to the airport and left her car in long term parking, then walked to the taxi stand and had them take her to the train station.

Two hours later she was in Lyon, purchasing hair dye, new clothes, and a prepaid phone.

She settled onto the bed in her hotel room wrapped in a towel, her hair now a mousy brown instead of platinum blonde, and dialed a number that she’d memorized out of her liberated files.

It rang four times before the line connected.

_-Who is this? How did you get this number?_

“I’m the woman offering you ten years worth of Overwatch research and development files.”

_-...I’m listening._

“Good. I have a proposition for your organization. I suggest we meet.”

* * *

She wasn’t surprised Overwatch was keeping the news of her departure quiet. After all, it would bring up many uncomfortable questions.

If she had to guess, they’d release a statement about her resignation at five o’clock on a Friday afternoon, probably thanking her for her years of selfless dedication or some similar nonsense...all while sending out Blackwatch agents to try and find her. She didn’t think they’d trust INTERPOL to do their dirty work, after all.

She wondered just how hard Gabriel was going to try to ‘recover’ her.

Still, she’d learned a few things from supporting Blackwatch operations from time to time, and she’d put those skills to use to help stay a few steps ahead of any pursuit.

Her staff, suit, and research were currently locked up at the Porte d’Orleans, while she waited at a cafe near the Parc Monceau, sipping at a demitasse. Dressed in a nice yellow blouse, grey skirt, and her hair up in a chignon, she looked like a thousand other businesswomen in Paris doing the exact same thing this time of day.

Just at the stroke of eleven in the morning, a plain looking man in a boring grey business suit settled down across from her. “Good morning, doctor.”

“Good morning, mister…?”

He smiled pleasantly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My name would mean nothing to you, I’m afraid. You may call me Antoine, if you like.”

They might have been colleagues meeting for a late lunch, or business associates hammering out the details of an acquisition. In a sense, she supposed they were.  

“Pleased to meet you, Antoine. I assume you are authorized to negotiate for your...organization?”

Antoine nodded, then waited for their server to depart with his lunch order before he got back to the matter at hand. “We're quite interested in what you’ve offered...and you of course bring many useful skills. In particular...well. We have a project which would greatly benefit from your input, I think."

“I’m sure you have quite a few areas where I might be able to lend a hand,” she agreed, “but I have some projects of my own I would like to pursue. One of which is a very high priority to me.”

Antoine leaned forward. “I believe we have some idea of the work you would like to pursue, and are quite interested in the potential results.”

Angela smiled coldly. “When I am successful, I would expect complete control over the product of my research.”

“Of course.”

“I will have funding and equipment requests I would expect to see met.”

“We assumed as much. You’ll be given a free hand...provided we see results.”

She wanted to laugh. “That will not be an issue - and it goes without saying that you will prevent my former employer from...ah...re-acquiring me?”

Antoine chuckled softly. “We do plan to offer you a very _competitive_ salary and benefits package. I assume you can start immediately?”

This really was almost too easy. “That’s correct. I will require some assistance with relocation, though.”

“Not an issue - we took the liberty of setting up an office for you in Brussels.” Antoine produced a card from his jacket and slid it across the table to her. “If you’d care to meet me at my hotel in...shall we say, two hours? We have a private jet we use for recruiting trips such as this.”

Angela picked up the hotel key, noting the address before turning it over in her fingers for a moment, then slipped it into her purse. “Very well. I will collect my luggage and meet you there.”

“Excellent.” Antoine’s smile was much more genuine, this time. “Welcome to Talon, doctor. We’re _very_ excited to have you on board.”

He reached across the table and she took his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Oh, I assure you, the pleasure is mine.”


	2. Triage

It was a state of the art facility, Angela had to give Talon that.

Which meant the _ridiculous_ decisions being made there were even more offensive, really.

After a few days of surprisingly amicable negotiations over salary, compensation, access, and priorities, Angela had begun commuting from the luxury apartment Talon had provided “Angelica Steenbakker” to the research park where she would be based.

She’d barely gotten her first equipment requisitions sent in before Antoine had appeared, asking if he might have a moment of her time.

“I suppose this is about that project you wished me to have a look at?”

Antoine nodded, his smile closer to that guarded look he’d given her when they’d first met. “Just so.”

Judging by the way staff they passed in the hallways straightened up and gave him a respectful look, it hadn’t been hard for Angela to figure out that this man held high rank in Talon. Perhaps even one of the shadowy inner circle that ran the entire organization.

_How interesting._

The lab he lead her into was perhaps a five minute walk from her own, dominated by something that looked like a hyperbaric oxygen cylinder, but the chamber's walls had been manufactured in some thick transparent material.

“This lab has been dedicated to our Widowmaker project,” Antoine explained as he lead her to the cylinder, gesturing to the woman within. “I believe you may be familiar with Mrs...or perhaps I should say _Ms._ Lacroix?”

Angela was grateful she’d had so much practice at maintaining her poker face over the past year.

_Amélie...what have they done to you?_

Her face seemed composed in sleep despite the IV lines, EKG leads, and catheter tube. Some kind of mufflers had been placed over her ears, and a device that seemed to combine a cranial magnetic stimulator and a robotic surgery unit rested behind her head.

None of which explained why her skin was now _blue._

“I am,” she finally admitted as she stepped forward to examine the chamber, “but she looks...rather different than when we last met.”

_The vibrant, cheerful ballerina with eyes that shined like opals, now shivering and sunken as Angela performed a field medical exam in the back of an ambulance. She seemed deeply traumatized and in shock - no surprise for a woman who had spent six months as the prisoner of a terrorist organization._

_Angela had recommended she be kept for observation for at least 72 hours, and a complete psychiatric evaluation._

_Gérard had insisted he take his wife home that night, that she would recover better at home than in another clinic surrounded by strangers, that he could handle any emergency that might come up._

_Over her objections, Jack had authorized her release._

_Two weeks later she’d been flown to Paris to oversee Gérard’s autopsy._

“Ah, yes, her skin.” Antoine clucked his tongue softly. “Our head of development for this project informed me that was an unavoidable side effect of some of the modifications they have performed to improve her accuracy as a sniper.”

Angela turned to face him, her brows knitting. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“I’m not a doctor myself,” Antoine demurred, “but as I understand it they’ve retarded her heart rate to keep it from disrupting her aim. We’ve also used a combination of brain implants and hypnotic conditioning to suppress her emotional responses to make her more...compliant...to commands.”

Angela’s expression was no longer held in neutral. “What on _earth_ would...no. As you said, you are not a doctor.” Her voice dropped into a furious growl. “Bring me the _idiot_ who has been overseeing this.”

Despite his placid demeanor, she had the impression that Antoine was pleased to hear that.

Ten minutes later a sweaty toad of a man was being lead into the lab by a uniformed security officer, his eyes darting around the room in confusion until he spotted Antoine standing next to Widowmaker’s chamber.

“Sir? What...what is going on? I was in my office when I was told I needed to report to the lab immediately…” He turned to look at Angela, but before he could say anything more, she drew herself up to her full height with a sneer.

“This is the _butcher_ who was responsible for this?”

“I _beg_ your pardon? I am the head of this project! The Widowmaker program has been an unqualified success-”

Angela laughed sharply. “One dead Blackwatch agent is hardly an unqualified success - and the justifications for the _rest_ are laughable. Do you even know what a sniper _does?”_

“Of _course!”_

“I strongly doubt it.” Angela gestured to the chamber. “Tell me, how does keeping your ‘operative’ in a constant state of bradycardia and hypoxia enable her to be more accurate? For that matter, how will she be able to infiltrate and approach targets on the battlefield with a skin tone that will immediately attract attention? Will she be bringing her hyperbaric chamber _with_ her into the field? That strikes me as a rather conspicuous. And precisely how well do you expect her to focus her aim the longer her system is deprived of calories?”

The toad’s mouth moved silently for a few minutes, gawping at her until Angela turned back to Antoine. “I am willing to take over this project in addition to my own research. Can you please have this _quack_ removed from the building?”

Antoine nodded and then made a little gesture to the security officer, who dragged the alleged doctor out of the room, his pathetic objections echoing down the hall.

“We’d had our...doubts...over certain aspects of this project. I’ll arrange for Ms. Lacroix and the Widowmaker project files to be delivered to your lab.”

Angela resisted the urge to place a hand on the chamber. It would not do to seem too familiar. Not yet, at least.

“Thank you, that will make things easier.”

It seemed she’d have quite a bit of reading to do this evening.

* * *

It took a week for some of the more unique pieces of equipment that Angela had requested to arrive at her lab, and once she had everything to her liking, it was time to triage the tasks ahead of her.

She felt a bit guilty for keeping Widowmaker sedated (or as her previous ‘controller’ had described her, ‘offline’), but she needed to know she had the tools needed to repair the damage done by Talon’s earlier ham fisted mangling.

She’d decided to start from a simple whiteboard. Lay out the necessary tasks. Prioritize. Execute.

_Well. The necessary tasks that I wish Talon to be aware of._

She uncapped a black marker and turned it in her fingers for a few moments before she began to write.

  * Resume nanosurgeon production / research
  * Build tools to build tools
  * Cadeuceus 2.0 / Brynhildr
  * Stabilize / revise Widowmaker
  * Chronal lure / stabilization chamber
  * Anchor / Accelerator?



As she mentally ordered the list and silently added her own objectives, she quickly began to sort them into three categories.

_Infiltration._

_Consolidation._

_Restoration._

As she worked, Angela scanned the walls and ceilings out of the corner of her eye, looking for concealed cameras and microphones.

She would have to do this carefully.

* * *

One of the first design decisions Angela had made after she’d gotten her nanosurgeon manufacturing processes back online was to further the integration of nanotech with her own body that she’d begun while still working with Overwatch.

She would still use the Caduceus staff if Talon required her in the field, or for addressing major trauma, but for smaller, finer work, this was an ideal solution.

Really, after implanting her personal nanosurgeon colonies to maintain her health and interface with the Valkyrie suit, it was the next logical step.

The only thing that had really stopped her before was concerns about how Morrison and the rest would react, and that was no longer an issue, was it?

(She’d never really thought about it before, but there was an interesting sort of human bigotry in Overwatch for an organization that claimed to be pro-equality. It was one thing to replace, say, an arm or a leg with a cybernetic replacement, but things that were _less_ obvious...no, those proposals met with quite a lot of resistance, didn’t they? As if Morrison and the rest wanted to make sure they could always tell who was ‘completely human’, and who was not.

As much as she felt some lingering guilt about what she had done to Genji Shimada, she didn’t blame him for his anger over being ‘half a man’ when she considered constantly living around such attitudes.)

Besides, knowing what she would likely need to do to give Lena the ability to live a somewhat normal life, Angela suspected explaining her own modifications would make it easier for her to know that there was no shame in being something more than biologically human.

 _Of course,_ she thought to herself as she carefully set up the next set of parameters for her upgraded nanotech interface, _there is the fact that Lena’s experiences with the Slipstream have made her something a bit more than human already…_

Her eyes came to fall on the chamber where Widowmaker continued to slumber, like a princess trapped in glass by some wicked fairy.

_And she is not alone._

* * *

As much as she desperately wanted to get Lena out of her purgatory, constructing the stabilization chamber took considerable time, even with being able to work from the blueprints Winston had completed before the project was scrapped.

Fortunately, Angela was nothing if not a multi-tasker.

It had taken several weeks, but she finally worked her way through the Widowmaker “development files” that had been delivered to her. She’d had to stop reading about the ‘upgrade program’ the previous team had designed and take a break every time her rage at the sheer misogynistic _stupidity_ became too much to bear.

“First order of business,” she mused as she cycled the hyperbaric chamber open, “is to give you a proper circulatory system again.”

Energizing her new nanosurgeon array, she placed a softly glowing hand against Amélie’s cyanotic cheek.

Within moments, her initial medical scans were done, and she had a good picture of the foreign bodies that had been put in place to restrict the pace of Widowmaker’s heartbeat while still (barely) providing enough oxygen to her bloodstream. The programming and configurations were crude, but she could work with them.

Really, if they wanted better sniping accuracy, giving Widowmaker faster twitch muscle responses and the ability to have her blood hyperoxygenated from a self recharging artificial lung while retarding her heartbeat for short, controlled periods made far more sense than keeping her body in constant starvation. Both would be easy enough to set up.

The larger question she grappled with was the other woman’s mind. The initial conditioning they’d performed to coerce her into killing Gérard had been hypnotic and chemical, the better to avoid detection. Now, however, there were faint scars at the edges of her temples, where the recon visor she would wear in the field would conceal them, showing where the incisions had been made to install more...active...controls.

Fortunately those, too, could be...adjusted.

Angela made a point of spending the next few minutes carefully walking around the chamber, pretending to make notes on a tablet and occasionally checking the IVs and other lines that snaked around Widowmaker’s body. Once she knew there was enough footage that anyone trying to observe her would be lulled into a repetitive routine, she opened a hidden folder on her tablet and activated the program she’d written that would loop the security camera footage and cut the feeds.

For such a paranoid organization, Talon’s IT security was surprisingly lax.

She disconnected the catheters, IVs, and the delta wave inducers that had been keeping Widowmaker in her artificial coma, then walked to the foot of the bed. It only took a few moments for her patient to awaken, blinking a few times before staring up at the ceiling with brilliant gold eyes.

“Good morning, Widowmaker. I am Doctor Ziegler, and I have taken over your care from the previous controller.”

Widowmaker slowly sat up and looked at her, cocking her head slightly. “Angela Ziegler. Callsign: ‘Mercy’. Overwatch’s chief medical officer.”

Angela shook her head. “Not any longer. I am now working for Talon, just as you are.”

Widowmaker looked around the lab, taking in her surroundings, then nodded after she had apparently satisfied herself that Angela was telling the truth. “Very well.” Returning to staring straight ahead, she raised both arms, turning to present her wrists. “I am ready for any maintenance requests.”

Angela stepped a little closer. “Actually, I have something a bit different in mind.” Reaching out to gently place her fingertips against Widowmaker’s temple, she energized her array.

_It’s time to wake up, Amélie._

Widowmaker stiffened as the implants in her mind were taken offline, then shuddered. Her eyes clouded, slowly taking on more emotion each time she blinked. Tears began to fill them, and as a final, horrible clarity set in, Amélie Lacroix began to scream in anguish.

Angela stepped closer, putting her arms carefully around the woman who had once been her friend, offering what support she could as Amélie clung to her and wept.

* * *

“You changed your hair.” Amélie’s voice was still rough from screaming, but her tears were finally spent as she held a steaming mug of tea.

Angela toyed with the end of her shorter ponytail, the new cut finally back to her natural color. “A few times since you’ve been away, actually, but yes. This style is still quite practical in the lab...and it’s not quite as recognizable as my old look should I run into anyone from Overwatch.”

Amélie gave a pensive nod. Angela had told her the truth about what was going on. Why she’d left Overwatch, what she was planning to do inside of Talon...and the fact that at least for now, her autonomy outside of the Widowmaker programming would have to be temporary.

It hurt to know she would be imprisoning her friend inside of her own mind again, but the knowledge that she _could_ be released was something, at least.

Angela decided a change of subject was warranted. “I think I should have your skin back to something like normal for next time.”

“That will be...nice.” Amélie looked down at her blue skinned hand with a grimace. “Right now everything feels...odd. It’s all too warm, and my fingers tingle and ache. It’s very difficult to feel textures. It’s as if I’m touching the world through a thick blanket.”

Angela made a mental note of that. “That may help me with your diagnosis, actually. Thank you. I’ll try to see about some more reasonable clothes, too.” As far as she could tell they had intended for her to wear that _ridiculous_ outfit when Widowmaker wasn’t in some form of patient gown. She suspected she’d be making quite a few shopping trips - and for that matter Lena would need something more comfortable than a flight suit. She’d have to guess at the smaller woman’s sizes, but she could make some decent assumptions.

They sat in contemplative silence as Amélie finished her tea, then walked to the chamber where she had been ‘kept’, looking mournfully at the bed. “My chest is starting to ache and my arms feel heavy. I suppose that means it is time.”

Angela sighed. “Next time will be easier. Your heart is still…” She shook her head. Medically, of course, her heart was _impaired_ , but they both knew what she really meant was _broken._

Amélie sat down on the bed, then looked up at her. “I think I remember seeing the girl you told me about. Oxton. Will I be able to meet her, next time?”

Angela smiled. “I think so. I should have her stabilization chamber ready for testing soon.”

“I would like that.” Amélie’s smile made Angela’s stomach feel torn apart, “It was nice to...not be alone, for a little while.”

Angela gently hugged her one last time, and then stroked her temple. “I’ll see you again soon.”

As the implants came back online, she watched the animation and life slowly drain away until Widowmaker was staring blankly at her once again.

“Is maintenance complete, doctor?”

Angela nodded. “You will be receiving some upgrades soon. Modifications to improve your performance and address some...flaws...in your previous design. I will be sedating you again until they are completed.”

Widowmaker lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes. “Very well.”

Angela ran a new IV line, then injected enough Lorazepam to put her under, waiting until Widowmaker had passed into REM sleep before hooking up the rest. Then, she leaned over and gently brushed a kiss against the cool skin of her forehead.

 _Good night, Amélie_.

She put away the mugs of tea before re-engaging the camera feed and made a show of taking some final notes, then cycled the chamber shut.

Ideas for the course of treatment she would need to perform were already starting to buzz in her mind. She walked back to her desk and began to draw up test plans and criteria for simulations.

Yes, she had a _great deal_ of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sincere thanks to Buttons for allowing me to bounce medical thoughts and headcanons off her!


	3. Human Resources

Angela stared at her reflection in the window that looked onto the brushed alloy walls of the stabilization chamber. She’d gone so far - done so _much_ \- to bring her to this point...but she found herself seized with hesitation.

She’d triple checked everything she could, but mistakes had gotten Lena _into_ this situation. The last thing she wanted was to make it worse.

Antoine had sent her a heavily redacted intelligence report from some source Talon had inside of Overwatch indicating that “the ghost’ was still appearing around headquarters, but that Winston’s attempts to get approval to restart his research had been fruitless. There was no chance that they’d be interfering with her work, but she wondered how Morrison would react if she succeeded. If the “ghost” no longer appeared, would he think Angela had been responsible?

_Something tells me that he’ll just be glad he doesn’t have to deal with ‘the problem’ any longer._

Anger swelled in the pit of her stomach, and it drove her past her indecision. Stepping to the control panel built into the chamber wall, she tapped in the initialization sequence.

“Engaging power to chronal stabilization matrix...now.”

Winston’s designs had all relied on having Athena helping him adjust the stabilization matrix and anchoring technology in real time. Talon had nothing that really compared, and even if they had Angela wouldn’t have trusted it. Coding up a system to help her with the tuning and refinement of the stabilization field had taken more time than she would have liked, but it was working well enough.

She waited for the readings to come up into the green ‘optimal’ bars, then locked the field into place.

“Right.” Turning to the next set of controls, she began powering up what she’d termed the ‘lure’. Tuned to the frequency Winston had defined as Lena’s signature in his notes, she planned to slowly increase power until it (hopefully) provided enough attracting force to draw Lena’s incorporeal form away from Overwatch and eventually help her to materialize in the chamber.

“Signature frequency is set...we’ll begin attempting acquisition in 5...4...3...2...1...now!”

She advanced the slider from “OFF” to 10%. She hadn’t expected instant results, but a small part of her was disappointed that she didn’t feel any tingling at the back of her neck.

“No result at ten percent,” she reported to anyone who might be monitoring her, “I’m increasing to twenty.”

Nothing.

“Thirty percent.”

“Forty percent.”

As she slid the slider a bit past forty five percent, the hair on the back of her neck began to stand up. Angela’s breath caught and she looked into the chamber, watching intently as she felt the ionization in the air increase.

It was different this time. When Lena appeared, the sound was longer, and louder. Like metal being scraped against metal, as Lena’s body shimmered and phased in and out of reality.

Angela increased power to the acquisition signal with one hand, the other hovering over the controls for the stabilization grid, trying to bring everything into the optimal zones again.

She’d had to run the acquisition power up to ninety percent of maximum before everything settled, but when Angela had finished locking everything in place, Lena was slowly staggering to her knees in the chamber. She reached up to steady herself on one of the chairs Angela had placed inside for Lena’s use...and her fingers settled into a firm grip.

Lena’s eyes went wide, and she looked towards the window where Angela was watching. “It...it _worked…_ ” Her voice was rough from disuse, but it had the high, clear tones Angela had remembered from before her disappearance, and Lena’s eyes shone with relief and gratitude. “Doctor Ziegler...Angela...you _did it!”_

Angela’s knees felt weak, and she took a moment to steady herself before giving Lena a broad smile.

“Welcome home.”

* * *

Her first order of business was to give Lena a thorough physical. As the first (and hopefully only) case of chronal disassociation, Angela made a point of documenting everything as carefully as she could.

“I have to ask - did you feel hunger, while you were…” Her voice trailed off, not quite sure how to express it.

Lena seemed to understand her well enough. “Not really? I had some moments, but honestly I’d had a good breakfast before I took the bird up, and now...I know it’s been quite a while, but I feel...a little thirsty? Mildly peckish?”

Angela nodded, then made sure her back was to the camera she knew looked into the chamber before angling her tablet to where Lena could read the note she’d just written.

_You’re safe here, but assume we are being monitored. I will let you know when it is safe to speak freely._

Lena nodded, a look of concern in her eyes as she quickly flicked out her reply in sign:  _I understand._

“Actually…” Lena looked around the chamber. “Is there a loo around here?”

Angela chuckled and pointed to a toilet around the back, a small screen in place to protect her privacy. “If you like, I have some fresh clothes for you as well.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Lena admitted as she began to pull off parts of the bulky flight suit on her way to the toilet.

Angela left the package with a sports bra, plain underwear, a basic grey t-shirt and black sweatpants at the edge of the curtained enclosure, then turned as she heard the door to her lab open, watching as Antoine walked to up to the stabilization chamber with a pleased little smile.

“I understand congratulations are in order, Doctor.”

Angela nodded, keeping her smile carefully controlled. “Indeed. So far the patient shows no signs of permanent damage from her experiences - though until I complete the anchoring system, she will be unable to leave the matrix.”

“I see.” Antoine gestured to the chamber door. “May I speak with you outside?”

“Of course,” Angela agreed, making her way out of the chamber. “She’s using the toilet and putting on fresh clothes, so we have a few minutes.”

“We’re quite impressed with the progress you’ve made in a relatively short time.”

Angela ducked her head modestly. “I appreciate that, Antoine. I’m very pleased with the resources I’ve been provided to support my work.”

“We believe in developing our resources to their fullest potential,” Antoine assured her as they left the lab. “But I have been asked to speak to you about Miss Oxton, now that you have successfully...secured her release.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “You assured me I would have complete control.”

“I have no intention of breaking my word, but a few of my colleagues are...concerned about where her loyalties may truly lie.” Angela didn’t need to read very far between the lines to know that applied to her as well.

“I’ve made Lena aware of the fact that Overwatch intended to allow her to rot in purgatory...or simply disappear. I can assure you she has no desire to return to them.”

“Even so,” Antoine raised a hand, “if you could provide some form of fail safe mechanism...I think it might ease some of their concerns.”

“I had anticipated that.” Angela gave him a little smile. “I think you’ll be satisfied with what I have planned.”

Antoine smiled tightly. “Ahh. Excellent. I’m very glad to see you’ve put some forethought into the matter.” Turning, he looked towards the open door, where Widowmaker could be seen at rest on her surgical bed. “And how do you find Ms. Lacroix?”

“In need of repair,” Angela deadpanned, “but initial treatments to address some of the larger flaws have been promising. Did you review the memo I provided to propose improvements?”

“Yes, I found it quite fascinating stuff. You have our full approval to move forward. If possible, we believe there may be an opportunity to give the...upgraded model a full field test in about six weeks. I would be very pleased if we might be able to demonstrate the fruits of your research.”

Angela considered her plans for both of the women under her care. _Six weeks…_

“It will require an aggressive development timeline, but I believe they’ll both be ready for action.”

“Excellent. Have a pleasant afternoon, Doctor.”

* * *

When she returned, Lena had changed into the new clothes and had taken a seat in one of the chairs inside the chamber, performing some seated stretches while she waited.

“I’m sorry I had to disappear on you - that was one of our...patrons.”

Lena gave her a weary smile. “Well, at least I’m able to sit down properly now.”

Angela nodded with a smile and took the seat across from her. “I can see where that would be a relief. I’m going to have some food for you soon, too. Have you had any new symptoms or issues while I was outside?”

Lena shook her head. “And before you ask, yes, I was able to use the toilet just fine.”

Angela chuckled. “Good to know.” She checked her watch and then tapped the camera loop program. “We’ve got some privacy, now.”

Almost before she finished speaking, Lena was on her feet and lunging towards her, wrapping her in an almost painfully tight embrace. “ _Thank you. Thank you so much.”_

Her arms slid around her in return, and she found her hand coming up to gently run through Lena’s short hair as she shook, making a soft ‘shhh’ as she did her best to comfort her. “You’re back now, Lena. You’re safe, I promise. I know it isn’t exactly _ideal_...but it was the only option I could realistically take to ensure your return.”

Lena shuddered. “They stopped talking to me after you left, you know? Most of them just... _ignored_ me. Like I wasn’t even there. Winston said a few things, here and there, but after what you told me…” She felt Lena shaking her head. “He was lying. Said he was still working. Said he’d have it licked soon. He _knew_ it was a lie and he just kept going on…”

Angela sighed. “I think he was trying to keep you from giving up hope. I don’t think deceiving you was right - it was _never_ right, and I feel guilty for participating in it myself...but he was your friend. He was trying to keep your spirits up because he still hoped to find a way to save you, somehow, with or without the Strike Commander’s approval.”

“But you never gave up on me…” Lena sniffed, then settled back into the chair she’d been occupying. “Even after everything...you found a way and you never gave up. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Putting her hands on her knees, she braced herself and took a deep breath. “So...how long? Really?”

Angela sighed. “More than a year. The date is April 19th, 2069.”

Lena let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Happy fuckin’ new year, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” Angela shook her head, “I tried to work as quickly as I could, once I had the resources -”

“No!” Lena reached out and took her hand in a firm grip. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize! You weren’t the one who left me to rot! Even if it took you time...you’re the one who cared enough to find a way.”

Now it was Angela’s turn to laugh. “Even if it meant making a deal with the devil?”

Lena sighed. “Well. Maybe it turns out we weren’t as much on the side of the angels as we thought.”

“I still believe in what Overwatch’s mission was _supposed_ to be.” Angela sat back, looking out into the lab. “Peace and stability. Saving lives. Preventing another Omnic Crisis.” Shaking her head, she let her eyes fall on Amélie’s chamber. “Talon’s goals are not necessarily incompatible with that vision...if we can provide a little leverage to steer them properly.”

When she looked back to Lena, the younger woman was considering her thoughtfully, and she waited to see what came of it.

“I see what you’re saying, but Talon’s a pretty big organization, isn’t it?”

“Not as difficult as it seems. They’re very compartmentalized, I’ve learned. In many cases they don’t know precisely where their orders come from - or why. With the right timing and a little work, it’s not difficult at all to adjust objectives and shift priorities. Especially if we were to use Overwatch and other law enforcement to...eliminate certain problems for us.”

Lena turned that over, then nodded. “That makes sense, I suppose. Still seems like a tall order for two people, though.”

Angela’s smile turned a bit wolfish. “Does it help if I said there’s actually three?”

* * *

Angela was pleased by the progress she’d made with Widowmaker. In just a few days of treatment her skin tone had returned to something much closer to normal, and her repaired heart had responded beautifully as Angela had slowly adjusted her back to a more normal heart rate.

The modifications to her lungs and respiratory system would be next, but she _had_ promised Amélie more company - and Angela knew that she’d receive better feedback on the treatments with her patient being fully aware.

“Now,” she explained to Lena as she leaned against one of the windows of her chamber, “I’d like you to stay fairly quiet until I introduce you.”

“Right.” Lena smiled to her and gave a thumbs up. “Stay quiet, no sudden moves. Got it!”

As before, she allowed Widowmaker to awaken from her sleep naturally, smiling at her when she sat up on the bed much more smoothly than before. “Hello, Widowmaker. How do you feel?”

Widowmaker pursed her lips (still a slightly cyanotic purple despite Angela’s best efforts), then looked down at herself. “My skin has changed. My heart feels...rapid.”

“Your skin was returned to a more normal shade as I adjusted your heart rate back up, yes.” Angela tapped in a few notes. “We’ll be making more upgrades to you shortly, but I wanted to check on how you performed at your new baseline.”

Widowmaker nodded. “I feel...functional. I see no reason I cannot perform in the field.”

“Good.” Angela turned, and gestured to the other side of the room. “I’d also like to introduce you to your future partner. Widowmaker, meet Tracer.”

Lena gave her a broad wave. “Hiya!”

“ _Bonjour.”_ Turning back to her, Widowmaker gave Angela a flat glare. “I do not require a partner. I was designed to operate alone.”

“Aw,” Lena’s face fell, “don’t be like that!”

“I have no doubt you can perform adequately,” Angela assured Widowmaker, “but once Tracer has completed her own...enhancements...I think you will find her to be quite useful.”

Widowmaker actually _sighed,_ which Angela had to admit was rather amusing. “Very well.”

“Now,” Angela smiled as she picked up her tablet, “I’d like to perform a few tests before you report to the rifle range for practice.”

 _And afterwards, once I have the cameras off, everyone can be_ properly _introduced._

* * *

Lena sat in the stabilization chamber and watched as Angela carefully shined a penlight in Widowmaker's eyes, tracking her pupillary response. The sight of the woman she'd briefly met when she'd first joined Overwatch, newlywed and full of life and excitement, reduced to a barely responsive doll gave her chills. To know what Talon had originally planned for Amélie...might have planned for her, too, had they found a way to pull her out of her ghostly prison without Angela's influence after Overwatch had given her up for dead.

_There but for the Grace of God...or an Angel, I suppose._

Thankfully the sound of Angela's voice pulled her away from those ruminations before they could begin to spiral. "That's quite enough of that, I think." Angela's hand glowed with the distinct red tinged gold of her nanotech suite being activated, and Widowmaker blinked rapidly as the blocks Talon had placed on her emotions and personality were pushed aside, allowing Amélie to truly reassert herself.

Lena watched as Amélie shivered for a moment, her arms wrapping around herself protectively as she slowly woke from that half-life, the repressed emotions washing across her face in waves before she slumped with relief.

"I can’t even imagine what it must be like to go through that," Lena murmured. “Going from nothing to everything all at once...it must feel like torture.”

"Mm." Angela put a reassuring hand on Amélie's shoulder. "It’s getting easier, though. The first time I woke her back up, she screamed for almost an hour."

Lena shuddered. "Can't say as I blame her."

Amélie reached up and squeezed Angela’s hand, then turned her head so she could catch the doctor’s eye. “Breathing doesn’t _hurt.”_

“Good!” Angela smiled back. “What about your sense of touch?”

“Better. I don’t feel so overheated.” Amélie ran her fingers over the material of the bodysuit, then touched the cushion of her bed. “I can feel the differences.”

Angela made notes on her tablet. “No more aches?”

Amélie shook her head. “I feel a bit stiff, nothing more.”

“Wonderful.” Angela smiled and gestured towards the chamber’s windows. “Here - why don’t you say hello?”

Lena hopped up and went to the window as Amélie stood and walked over. “Hello! Nice to meet you again.”

“And you,” Amélie agreed. “I am sorry if I...if she...said anything which hurt you.”

Lena shook her head. “You’re fine. Besides, it wasn’t _really_ you, was it?”

“Sometimes it is difficult to tell.” Amélie looked away, her eyes unfocusing. “It’s like being in a dream, or watching a movie, except I know that what is happening around me is real.” She sighed, and Lena felt her heart clench. “At least now I have some time where I am truly myself again.”

“Angie told me a bit of what she wants to do.” Lena did her best to give Amélie a reassuring smile. “Give us some time - we’ll get things sorted. I know we can’t undo what’s already been done, but…”

Amélie nodded. “It is something, at least. More than I could have hoped for.” She turned back to look at Angela. “How much time can you give me, today?”

“I don’t want to run the loop indefinitely, but I think we can get away with another half hour, based on what we’ve seen.” Angela gestured to the door that lead into the chamber. “You can go in, if you like. Lena just can’t leave - yet.”

Lena grinned. “Plenty of time for a cuppa, if you like.”

Amélie shrugged. “I suppose wine is out of the question…”

“For now,” Angela smiled as she filled the electric kettle with water, “but things will change.”

Suddenly sitting down with 100% more people than she’d been able to talk to for an entire year, Lena let herself smile. Things had already started to change. Now...it was about ensuring they’d continue to change for the _better._

It was still a tall order. But she was starting to feel like they might just pull it off.


	4. Bind and Anchor

They watched King’s Row burn.

Null Sector had taken control of the borough and the British government had refused all help, preferring to cordon off the heart of London and quarantine the area than negotiate with ‘faulty mechanicals’ - even after the omnics had begun killing hostages.

Overwatch, Angela had learned, had tried to get approval to go in four times, and the Prime Minister had denied each one.

Lena had watched it all with heartbreak, and Angela had done her best to be there for her.

“It reminds me of Zurich,” Angela confessed as they ate dinner inside the stabilization chamber and watched the BBC broadcasting details of the second week of the crisis. “After I lost my parents...so many places I used to love, shattered. There are still parts of the city I can’t bear to visit.”

“I just wish I could be there.” Lena sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Wish I could do _something_ to stop it.” She looked out the window, towards the work table that sat adjoining the desk. “How soon…?”

“The anchor implant should be ready to test in another few days.” Angela gave her a careful look. “Are you comfortable with what we discussed?”

“Making it a part of me? Yeah, I think so.” Lena looked down at her chest, placing a hand over her sternum. “It’s safer than leaving the whole unit in the accelerator, right? And this way I can take a shower or go to the kitchen in the middle of the night without having to carry the whole bloody kit with me.” She blushed sheepishly. “Well. Once I have a shower or a kitchen. Or an apartment, for that matter.”

Angela smiled. “I thought I’d offer to put you up in mine, once you’re able to leave for a bit.”

A deep blush rose across Lena’s cheeks. “I...well...that’s...really nice of you.”

Angela suddenly realized how that must have sounded and looked back over to the television, biting her bottom lip. They _had_ gotten quite close through Lena’s ordeal. She couldn’t help but admire Lena’s resilience and optimism, even through all of this, and she was...adorably cute, if she was honest. _Well...I suppose doctor-patient ethics went out the window quite a while ago, didn’t they?_

“I’m happy to share. I’ve really got more room than I know what to do with, anyway.” She gave Lena a guilty smile. “Besides - if I have you reminding me when we should go home, perhaps I’ll stop falling asleep in the lab.”

Lena snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

Angela stuck out her tongue and Lena giggled, the horrors of the outside world pushed away for a little while. 

_She does have a nice laugh._

* * *

As if it was a bit of a prophecy, Angela fell asleep in the lab more often than not that week. Their ‘demonstration’ deadline was coming up, and though Widowmaker would be ready (the artificial lung had gone in beautifully, in her opinion, and the nanosurgeons had finished the delicate work of integrating it into her nervous system), Tracer’s equipment was more challenging. Still, it was coming along.

Winston’s blueprints had been thorough, and the adaptation of the (relatively) proven teleportation technology he’d already designed was straightforward, but the accelerator and the anchor implant were both untested, and there was very little margin for error.

Lena did her best to stay up on her (admittedly unhealthy) schedule to provide company - after all, she had nowhere else to go - but even her energy occasionally flagged.

Since Angela had arranged for regular food deliveries, Lena did insist that she take a break and eat with her when the food arrived, rather than simply working through the meal.

“If nothing else,” Lena said confidently, “a bit of food and a break lets you come back with fresh eyes and a little spring in your step. Did me wonders in Flight Test.”

Though they didn’t discuss the (still ongoing) siege of King’s Row, Lena had spent time working on getting caught up on the time she’d ‘missed’, and occasionally quizzed her on news, pop culture, and other subjects as they ate. Sometimes Angela ended up learning a few things from Lena, who happily would talk about flying until the sun went out, but also had interesting and eclectic knowledge of music, dancing, and cooking as well.

“You know, if I’m out and about before the end of next week, we’d be able to go to Pride.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “ _That_ is your first concern?”

Lena gave her a shameless grin. “Never missed one after I came out. Not until...well. You know.”

“Even when you were in the RAF?”

“Sure,” Lena speared a potato from her  _moules frites_ and popped it into her mouth, “I just volunteered to be part of the detachment marching in the local parade - wherever it was.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Lots of gals there loved a girl in uniform, y’know.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Angela sipped from her glass of mineral water. “I suppose a doctor might have a certain appeal as well?”

Lena gave her a little wink, her eyes dancing. “Well, it depends on the doctor, but I’m pretty biased…”

* * *

“So.” Angela held up the anchor implant carefully, turning it back and forth so Lena could examine the shallow cylinder. “Initial bench tests have been positive. Test simulations show it functioning properly. I can show you reams of data saying this will be successful...but it is your body, and your life we will be putting at risk.”

Lena reached out and took the anchor from her, gently running her fingers over the brushed metal core and sockets that would connect to the device into the accelerator. She could see Lena feeling out the weight and heft, then looking back up at her. “It’s a risk, but I’d rather take that risk than be trapped in this room forever.”

“This is only part of the equation, but yes, that’s true.” Angela held up her hand. “I’ll want to sedate you for the operation, obviously, but I’d prefer to keep you under until the anchor has been fully integrated into your body, which could take up to 72 hours. We’ll be making quite a few connections into your nervous system to assist with controlling the accelerator, and all of the wound healing that will need to take place.”

Lena sighed. “I’m not really excited about losing three days, but at least I _know_ I’ll be waking up this time.”

Angela offered as reassuring a smile as she could. “I guarantee it. And if all goes well once we activate the anchor, I promise we’ll have dinner out afterwards.”

Lena grinned. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into Indian? I could murder a curry.”

Angela laughed. “I think that after major surgery, you’re allowed to pick the restaurant.”

“Brilliant! That’s a date, then.”

Now Angela found herself blushing. Lena certainly didn’t lack in confidence, that was for sure. “I’ll run one more test program on the implant, and if everything looks good, I can prep you for surgery this afternoon.”

Lena took one last look at the implant that would soon be a part of her body, then handed it back. “The sooner the better, far as I’m concerned.”

Readying Lena for surgery was a simple enough process. A quick scan gave Angela a full pre-op report, and the bed in her chamber doubled as an operating table. Lena held out her arm for the IV, and Angela hung lines for the saline and anesthesia drips before getting Lena comfortable.

She waited, constantly monitoring her vitals, until Lena had passed into deep sleep, then ensured she would remain in a dream state with the same type of inducers that were used to keep Widowmaker ‘offline’.

Opening the front of the patient gown to expose Lena’s chest, Angela slid her fingers carefully along the planned implantation site, using her nanosurgeons to clean and sterilize the area before picking up her scalpel.

The work of placing the anchor and closing the surgical site around it was simple. The more complex, delicate work was being done by thousands of her microscopic tools as they swarmed through Lena’s bloodstream, following their programming and reporting on their progress in real time.

Once Angela watched the skin around the anchor settle and tighten to form a seamless seal she gave a satisfied nod, then collected her tools for cleaning and her waste for disposal. 

She’d done everything she could to ensure this would go smoothly. Now it was just ( _Ha!_ ) a matter of time.

* * *

Lena’s first thought as she woke up was that she’d expected things to hurt more. After all, Angela had explained how she would open her chest up, move things around to allow for the anchor to be placed into her body, and then stitch her back together. Even with the doctor’s improved nanotech it seemed like that ought to be a real bitch.

But, to her surprise, it really wasn’t. There was an ache, yeah, and she could feel the slight shift to her center of gravity thanks to the new widget, but that was about it. The closest thing she could think of was that it felt a bit like someone had punched her, really, really hard in the chest.

The other thought was that she’d expected the anchor implant to feel cold, somehow. After all it was mostly made of alloys and composites so complex that Lena could barely follow all the names. But she didn’t feel any chill to her skin around it, and though it was still a bit tender there (she _did_ feel a little ache if she took a really deep breath), when she touched it, the smooth metal felt right around body temperature. She was going to have to get used to the way it nestled against her breasts, but it didn’t feel like it was going to be a constant reminder of having something foreign inside of her body. Really, given what it represented, it was fairly comforting.

 _Angie seems to get by just fine with her tech, after all._ She’d known plenty of people with artificial limbs thanks to the Crisis, and that whole business with the ninja in Blackwatch she’d seen around a few times. He didn’t seem so bad off, did he?

 _Besides, if she’s right about_ half _the things the whole system will let me do…_ She couldn’t help but smile at the idea. Being able to send herself in and out of time and space, teleport around...who knew what else?

She did wish Winston had been there to see it, to help make sure she would get the full potential out of everything. But as sweet as he was - as kind as he’d been - he’d still stopped trying to get her home when the Commander had pulled the plug.

Lena still really wasn’t sure how she was going to reconcile the memories of the friend she’d made with that fact.

Putting those thoughts aside, Lena carefully propped herself up on her elbows, and when that didn’t bring any additional pain or warning signs, she sat up and took a look around. The clock on the wall announced it was 4:13 in the morning, and that as Angela had promised, it had been three days since she’d fallen asleep on the operating table.

She closed her eyes again with a soft sigh. After bouncing back and forth, never knowing where, never knowing _when…_ as tired as she was getting of being stuck in the lab, it was a relief in waking up and knowing precisely where she was.

Before she could put much more thought into that, though, her body was demanding she attend to a few other things.

As she stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she noticed a distinctive blonde ponytail poking up from between computer monitors at Angela’s desk, and sighed. “Oh, _Angie_...you said you’d stop with that.” Her eyes flicked over to where Widowmaker slept, wishing she had the ability to wake her and ask if Angela had spent the entire time she’d been out working in her lab.

She looked down at her chest, the anchor’s surface dark - Angela had insisted they wait to ‘kickstart’ the device until she was awake.

“Soon enough,” she sighed, “seems like _someone’s_ got to look after you, luv.”

She made her way back to bed and pulled her covers back up, the lure of sleep quickly dragging her back down.

 _Soon enough…_  

And if she dreamed of what she’d love to do to her doctor, once she wasn’t in the middle of this lab and living under cameras 24/7, well...no one else needed to know, did they?

* * *

Lena woke to the sound of voices, making her groan and turn on her side. “Nnnngh...come on…” Slowly opening an eye, she shook her head. 7:45 am. Even though she’d slept for for days, three and a half hours was not _nearly_ enough.

Angela was up and looking impressively chipper for someone who had slept in her chair, walking carefully around Widowmaker, who sat in a chair giving short, direct answers to questions as Angela reviewed her latest set of modifications.

After one last round, Angela set her tablet down with a smile. “All done then. I think you’re progressing very well, Widow. Would you like to visit the training range?”

Widowmaker stood, the bodysuit she was wearing hugging her curves in a way Lena had to admit she appreciated. “I am scheduled for training today. It does not matter what I would like.”

Angela frowned, but stepped back and gestured to the door. “Please go ahead, then. I will examine your results and perform a follow up exam when you are finished.”

Widowmaker nodded, then turned and left the room, walking with a languid grace that spoke of Amélie’s dance training.

Angela sighed as the door closed, then turned to see Lena sitting up in bed. “Oh! Good morning, Lena! I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Sort of,” Lena admitted as she rubbed a bit of the sleep from her eyes. “I woke up around four, had a piss, and went back to bed for a bit. Could do with a few more hours or a good cuppa…”

Angela smiled. “Would you settle for preparing you to go outside?”

Lena sprang up off the bed. “Yeah!” The idea of finally getting a chance to feel a breeze on her skin and taste air that hadn’t been recycled a dozen times was a better wake up than the best cup of tea.

Angela’s laugh at her enthusiasm made Lena’s heart skip a little. “Well, then. Give me just a moment and we can work on priming and engaging the anchor.”

They were well into the process of hooking her up for the procedure when the man she’d seen earlier - their ‘patron’, Angela had said - entered the lab.

She imagined they made quite a sight. Angela had attached several monitoring leads to her arms and chest, and the doctor was in the process of carefully connecting a heavy cable that snaked out of the stabilizer array into the sockets crafted into the anchor.

“Good morning, doctor. I see you’ve had a productive morning.”

Lena had to admit she was impressed by Angela’s poker face. The only reaction she made as the man spoke to them was a slight tightening of her fingers on Lena’s wrist before she turned, a bland smile on her face.

“Good morning to you, Antoine. As you can see, we’re nearly ready for the next major step in Miss Oxton’s recovery - and augmentation.”

Antoine gave them a thin smile. “Do please go on. I’m mostly here to report back on what I am sure will be another success.”

Lena kept quiet, not really trusting herself to speak. Angela seemed to recognize her concern and slipped an arm around her waist possessively.

“I’m sure.” Squeezing her hip before she stepped back, the doctor took up her tablet, speaking as if she was giving a class lecture. “The anchor implant will function to stabilize Lena without the need for the grid - but we will be ‘jump starting’ it using chronal energy from the system we’ve already established.”

Antoine gave a nod. “I’d gathered as much from your memos. And the anchor will be self-sustaining?”

“It is intended to be,” Angela lied smoothly, “but it will require testing. It is entirely possible that the energy demands from the Chronal Accelerator might compromise that. In which case the anchor can be recharged from our grid.”

Angela had explained during one of their private conversations that Talon wanted her to have a ‘leash’ of some kind - a fail safe that would ensure she was dependent on their organization. The claim that the anchor would need her to keep coming back for recharging was a solid excuse.

Angela ‘lied’ to Lena and claimed the anchor’s need to be recharged was a design flaw that would need to be worked through. She would lie to Talon and tell them it was a deliberate move to keep Lena under control.

Talon didn’t need to know that the anchor would work just fine no matter how much power the accelerator used.

The game they played made Lena’s head spin a bit, but she’d do her best to keep things straight. It would help once they could carve out a few more private moments outside of the lab. Give her chance to bring her guard down and catch her bearings, even if it was just for a few minutes.

She realized she’d zoned out when she caught Angela saying her name. “Lena?”

“Wha - oh, sorry, doctor! I guess I got lost in thought there.”

Angela nodded. “I was asking if you are ready to proceed with activating the anchor.”

Lena gave her a thumbs up and her best smile. “Absolutely!”

Angela tapped her tablet. “Excellent! I’m beginning the priming sequence...now!”

There was a hum, and Lena felt a distinct tingling sensation through her body as energy was poured into the anchor. She could feel a sense of vibration from the implant, and looked up as she realized the lights in the lab had begun to dim. “...is that good or bad?”

Angela shrugged. “I expected there would be a notable power drain, but we’re nearly at the activation threshold. Just a few more moments…”

Lena didn’t quite understand at first, and then the tingling sensation became slightly different. A feeling of being _there_ , even more than she’d had when Angela had first pulled her into this place. The hum subsided, and the vibration had gone as well as the lights returned to normal.

“Anchor is online,” Angela announced with a smile, “and reading stable. How do you feel, Lena?”

“It’s sort of hard to describe, but...I feel like I’m _here._ Not like I’m at risk of getting pulled away, or slipping back.”

“Wonderful!” Angela walked over to disconnect the heavy cable from her chest, and when Lena looked down the heart of the anchor now had a subtle red glow to it, deeper than the glow she’d seen from Angela’s nanotech and without the golden hue, but similar enough that Lena found it comforting.

Antoine cleared his throat. “If all seems well, perhaps you’d care to join me? I have a welcome home gift for Miss Oxton.”

Angela walked to the door and opened it, gesturing towards the rest of the lab. “After you.”

Lena’s mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. She’d gotten used to this little room being her entire world, and the fear of stepping outside and becoming a ghost again - or worse, disappearing entirely - was very real.

But she trusted Angela. No, more than that: she _believed_ in Angela.

So Lena gave her a smile and walked to the threshold, then took a deep breath and stepped across.

Nothing happened.

She took two more steps towards the balding man who was now smiling at them both...and nothing happened.

She turned as she heard Angela close the door to the chamber behind her. The doctor came up and put a hand on her shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

“Well.” Lena’s heart soared, and she didn’t bother trying to hide her delight. “I guess it works!”

Antoine chuckled, and handed her a thick manilla envelope. “I suspect you will need these, then.”

* * *

“Elena Hamerton?” Lena frowned at new IDs, bank card, and other documents she’d been given for her cover identity. “So they basically just took something close enough to my real name, and picked another chunk of London.”

Angela chuckled as she produced her ‘Angelica Steenbakker’ drivers’ license. “It could be worse.” 

“Hah. I suppose.” Lena arranged her cards in the new wallet she’d been given, then stuffed it into the pocket of her sweatpants. “Guess I’ll need more clothes. Shoes...everything, really.”

Angela gave her a sympathetic look. “I am afraid so. Anything you had at your old flat in London or back at headquarters was probably sold off or returned to your next of kin after you were declared dead.”

Lena sighed. “Right. Well, I suppose we’ll just have to go hit the shops later.” Looking up, she grinned back at her. “Seems to me we had dinner plans.”

Angela smiled as she grabbed her purse and coat. “Yes, I believe we do.”

It was still light out when they left the building, and she heard Lena give a soft gasp as she stepped outside.

When she turned around, Lena was staring upwards, tears pooling in her eyes.

Angela reached out and took one of her trembling hands, squeezing it gently.

“It just hit me,” Lena whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “how long it’s been since I saw the sky.”

“We could look for somewhere with a patio,” Angela suggested, “and eat outside?”

Lena nodded, then gave her an appreciative smile. “Yeah...that sounds brilliant, thanks.”

During dinner, Angela noticed the way Lena would occasionally stop and look around, as if shocked to find herself surrounded by others. She did her best to keep conversation flowing, making a point of not discussing anything related to Overwatch or Talon, as a way to help Lena ground herself and avoid touching anything too sensitive.

She’d ended up telling Lena some of her better stories from medical school, and Lena had given her a few stories about her early days as an RAF recruit, and a few of her more entertaining moments from her test pilot training.

Angela giggled helplessly at a story about how a malfunctioning climate control module in a prototype fighter had provided Lena with her own personal rain cloud (“including a rainbow!”) and realized she felt more relaxed with her, telling stories and having dinner than she had in months. Possibly since she’d joined Overwatch, in fact.

“I like making you laugh.” Lena smiled as if she’d managed to catch that train of thought. “You’ve got a pretty smile, too.”

Angela felt the blush rising on her cheeks again. “We haven’t had much to laugh about, given the situation.”

Lena’s eyes were shining like chips of polished amber as she looked across the table at her.  “Makes it even more important to find reasons, don’t you think?”

 _This is horrible,_ some part of Angela’s mind chastised her, _she’s eight years younger than you, she’s a_ patient _, and she’s just been through major psychological trauma. What are you_ doing?

Then Lena’s fingers brushed hers, and everything else seemed to fall away.

“You know, you never did show me the apartment, Ange.”

“No,” Angela said slowly as they stood up, leaving a few bills on the table to cover their meal. “I suppose I haven’t.”

They barely made it inside the front door, let alone into the bedroom.

Lena’s enthusiasm had a slightly desperate edge to it, as if she still wasn’t sure that all of this was quite real. Of trying to prove to herself that she was really, truly alive again. Starving for touch and to be touched, skin on skin, breathing in each other as they tangled atop her bedsheets.

Angela had her own needs, even as she’d helped to sate Lena’s. Connection, intimacy, _trust_...how long had she been missing this? When was the last time she’d even had a one night stand, before this?

_Far too long._

What few friends she’d had before...how many were barely more than acquaintances? How many had even tried to connect with her when she wasn’t being ‘Dr. Ziegler’?

_Not nearly enough._

She’d always blamed herself for her isolation - putting her work ahead of all else, and knowing the life of a doctor could often be a lonely one. But increasingly she had to acknowledge it was a two way street. Amélie and Lena hadn’t struggled to approach her, had they? Even when Widowmaker was dominant in Amélie’s mind, she’d been able to see some stunted form of appreciation in their interactions.  

She found herself turning it all over as Lena curled against her, running her fingers through her disheveled chestnut colored hair and trying to gently tease it into something a bit more orderly.

She watched Lena’s lips, turned almost blood red by the anchor’s reflected illumination, turn up into a smile at her touch.

None of what they’d done tonight - what they’d started to become - felt like a mistake.

Angela didn’t feel a shred of regret for finding herself attracted to her, not after more than a year of being Lena’s lifeline. They’d grown close, and perhaps this had been inevitable. Even if she’d managed to beg the resources needed to pull her back without leaving Overwatch, spending so much time together had built the foundations for more just a friendship.  

Her fingers came to rest against the nape of Lena’s neck, and she cuddled a bit closer with a soft, happy sounding murmur.

Angela shifted so she could lightly kiss Lena’s temple, and closed her eyes.

Whatever this was, it felt _safe_ , and she savoured that warmth as she slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am bumping Lena's age up from 'canon' a bit. It's already an AU, let me have my headcanons and soothe my internal 'that's not how being a test pilot _works_.' :)


	5. Acceleration

Angela woke to the smell of coffee and cooking meat, and had a moment of confusion until she remembered she hadn’t gone to bed alone the night before.

Turning over with a groan, she looked at her bedside clock and sat up in shock. _9:40am_. She didn’t exactly work regular hours in her lab, but she _did_ try to put in a good day’s work, especially since they were operating on a deadline.

She slipped out of bed and grabbed the robe hanging off her bedpost, belting it closed as she went to the kitchen, then stopped in her tracks at the sight awaiting her there.

Lena had apparently raided her closet for one of her white button ups, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the shirttail just barely reaching her thighs. She’d left the collar and top button undone, the top edge of her implant peeking above the fabric, the light from the anchor glowing faintly through the top.

“Oh, good morning!” Lena’s smile was perfectly uncomplicated as she left a pan working on the stove and delivered a quick kiss. “Hungry?”

“Oh, yes.” _On several levels._ Taking a seat at the table, she gave Lena an appreciative smile as she brought over a mug of coffee. “This is lovely, but you should not have let me sleep so late.”

Lena chuckled. “It’s _Sunday_. That’s what they’re for!”

Angela blinked. “Oh. Is it?” The days _had_ been blending together lately.

“Yes, it is.” Lena turned the bacon as she shook her head. “You’ve been working too hard, luv.”

Angela shrugged. “We’re on a deadline, you know that. Given our employer, the operative word of which is _dead_.”

Lena sighed. “OK, that’s a fair cop, but you need a break. When was the last time you actually went home and got a good night’s sleep? Before you brought me back, at least - I’ve caught you nappin’ at your desk almost every night.”

Angela gave her a guilty smile. “Not counting last night? I have to admit it’s been...a while.”

Lena brought over a plate for her. “That’s what I thought. So - today is your day off, _Frau doktor Ziegler._ ”

Angela sighed. “Your accent is atrocious, you know.”

Lena giggled as she returned to the table with her own breakfast and a mug of tea. “Well, until last night I only knew about six words of German.” She winked. “Pretty sure I’m up to at least a dozen, now.”

Angela blushed despite herself. “You are _shameless_ , Lena.”

Lena beamed at her. “Thank you!” Taking a sip of her tea, she grew slightly more serious. “Really, though - a day to relax a little will do you good. I’m up and about, Amélie - well, Widowmaker - is a ready as she can be, and you said the accelerator is ready to test, yeah?”

Angela considered that, then nodded. “That’s true, yes. There’s a little fabrication work to finish on the harness but the actual unit is ready.”

Lena smiled. “So. One day to relax - and I _do_ need more than one set of clothes. Come hit the shops with me. Everything else will be there tomorrow.”

She finished her coffee and worked through most of her eggs as she thought that over. “I suppose it _would_ be rude of me to let you wander around the city on your own.”

“Very,” Lena winked, “I mean, who knows what sort of trouble I could find myself in?”

Angela gave her a teasing smile from across the table. “I’m sure I couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

“Brilliant. I threw my stuff in your washing machine before I got started so I’d have something clean to wear out.” Lena’s eyes darted past her shoulder to the clock on the wall. “Ought to be done in half an hour or so.”

“Well, then…” Angela slowly dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “Seems we have a little time to kill, don’t you think?”

After all, if she was taking the day off, it would be a shame not to make the most of it.

* * *

Lena appreciated that Talon apparently had a tailoring service that was responsible for uniforms and equipment, but she really wished they had a bit more imagination.

Most of the equipment that had been waiting for her in the lab was the same issue Talon provided to their security and grunt troops, but she appreciated how everything that would go over her chest featured neatly hemmed cutouts for the anchor’s core to poke through.

The uniform’s pants were sort of a cross between motorcycle leathers and leggings, done in a dark red with reinforced armor at the knees and hips made from some matte black composite material, cushioned by some shock absorbing gel beneath the plating. The ends tucking neatly into a pair of red armor capped running boots made from something like black leather, with reinforced ankles and integrated greaves to protect her calves.

Tactical gloves (in black, of course), a red puncture-proof compression top, then a black jacket with a banded collar (picked out in red, naturally), accented with red “go faster” stripes along the ribbed shoulders, and a pair of armored vambraces that also integrated matching pistol holsters. A pair of black rimmed shatterproof goggles with a single wide red lens to protect her eyes completed the ensemble, which she pulled up onto her forehead for the moment.

It looked fairly badass and dramatic, but all the black and red really got tiresome. Did someone pass a law that all the baddies had to follow a particular color palette?

On the other hand, apparently when Talon got “creative” with their designs it lead to things like that _ridiculous_ reflective purple suit that Widowmaker had been given, so maybe she could deal with “fairly unimaginative.”

Lena looked at herself in the mirror once she’d finished dressing, running her fingers over the Talon logo that had been embroidered on her sleeve. Not so long ago, she’d have never imagined herself working for Talon - for a group that was labeled a _terrorist organization_ \- but things had changed.

Even if they hadn’t given Angela the help she’d needed to pull her back into the world...Talon was offering her a chance to save her home.

Lena couldn’t walk away from that.

* * *

The tipping point had come when Null Sector announced that they were tired of waiting for their demands for the British government to recognize omnics as full citizens and the establishment of a Human Free Zone in the heart of London to be met.

To demonstrate their intent, they executed Mayor Nandah on live webstreaming broadcast, and promised ‘the traitor Tekhartha Mondatta’ would be next.

Antoine had appeared in the lab a few minutes after Angela had turned off the news.

“Doctor. Miss Oxton. I am assuming you’ve seen the latest developments in London?”

Angela’s face was pinched tight. “I assume Overwatch is still being told they are not allowed to intervene?”

“The prime minister appears to have decided the lives of the hostages are acceptable losses compared to surrendering face, and Commander Morrison is apparently unwilling to cross that particular Rubicon.” Antoine shook his head. “Fortunately there are others who have less...hidebound attitudes.”

Lena held her breath, hoping that meant what she thought it did.

Antoine walked to the chamber where Widowmaker slept. “Your work on the Chronal Accelerator is complete?”

Angela frowned. “Yes, but the device is untested.”

“Then this will be an excellent opportunity to collect data in the field.”

Angela’s face clouded with anger. “I was promised _six weeks_ \- we’ve had less than three!”

Antoine gave her a bland shrug. “We still plan to conduct that operation - but this is an opportunity we cannot let pass us by.”

“Talon is concerned about the life of a Shambali monk?” The skepticism in Angela’s voice said exactly what she thought of _that_.

Antoine shook his head. “Talon is dedicated to protecting _humanity_ , Doctor. Including the remaining hostages still inside Null Sector’s stronghold, and hundreds more at risk in the occupied zone.”

Angela’s bearing softened. “Even so - the risks of going into combat with unproven-”

“I’ll go,” Lena interrupted firmly.

Angela frowned. “Lena, you haven’t even train-”

“But he’s right, Angie.” Lena straightened to her full height, nodding to Antoine, who watched them with eyes like a shark. “Overwatch can’t - or _won’t_. If they were going to send the Army or the SAS lads in, they’d have done it by now. Who else will stop this? Who else _can?_ ”

She could tell Antoine had expected her to jump for the bait he’d laid out from the look in his eyes. “We have a...concerned and sympathetic contact who will be temporarily shutting down CCTV coverage in King’s Row to allow us to operate without interference in a little under ten hours from now. That will give us a window where you can be inserted into King’s Row by stealth transport. Your primary mission will be to gain access to the power station where the hostages are being kept and to liberate them. Beyond that, eliminate as much of Null Sector’s command and control units in the occupied area as you can find.” He flicked his gaze over to Angela. “Widowmaker will provide sniping and reconnaissance support. You still have your field equipment?”

Angela nodded slowly. “My upgraded designs are not ready for deployment, but my original Valkyrie suit is operational, yes.”

“I assume you’ve removed all Overwatch markings from it?”

“Of course.”

Antoine nodded. “Excellent. You can provide support for them both, then.” He turned and headed for the door. “Good luck, ladies. We’ll be watching closely.”

Lena waited for the door to shut before turning back to Angela. “I have to do this. You _know_ I do.”

Angela closed her eyes with a sigh. “A lot of people are going to die if Null Sector is allowed to run rampant. I am worried about the risk to you, but...you are right. We cannot waste time sitting on the sidelines. Not if there is an opportunity to stop this.”

Lena crossed the floor to wrap Angela in a hug, cameras be damned. “Thank you.”  

Angela leaned into the embrace, breath leaving her in a sigh. “I wouldn’t let you go alone. I couldn’t let _either_ of you go alone.” Straightening, she looked at the clock. “Ten hours isn’t much time. Get into your uniform while I run one last bench test on the accelerator, and we can at least give you a little time to practice with the full system while I make sure Widowmaker is prepared for the mission and get the Valkyrie ready.”

* * *

At Angela’s insistence, they’d gone into the stabilization chamber to fire up the accelerator for the first time.

“I do not _expect_ anything to go wrong, but if it should, having the grid available could potentially save your life.”

Lena had agreed, and they’d gone into the chamber once she’d finished suiting up with the rest of her gear.

The accelerator looked a bit like a parachute harness and a jet engine had a baby - possibly using a Dalek as a sperm donor. Lena carefully stepped into the leg rigging and secured the belt at her waist, then let Angela help her into the shoulder straps for the angular backpack that contained the primary power supply and heat sinks for the accelerator’s modified teleportation array, shrugging a few times to properly settle the weight.

“Right - ready to connect up!”

Angela nodded, then brought the connectors around from where they hung at the sides of the backpack to her chest.  Winston had originally kept the device fairly round and streamlined, with heavy fairings over the front but minimal protection for the accelerator’s core.

Angela had kept the components the same, but had incorporated protective plating over the back and the interface from the accelerator into the anchor, giving the three connectors that locked into the core an appearance like metallic flower petals - or perhaps a raptor’s talons, sinking into the “heart” of the device.  

As the final connection locked into place, Lena could feel a vibration from the anchor, spreading through her like a live current. Light began to shine through the accelerator’s core, casting a stark red glow over Angela’s features, and Lena felt a sense of power - of _potential_ \- racing through her, just waiting to be given an outlet.

Angela lifted her tablet and checked the readings. “I don’t see any fluctuations or instabilities in the anchor, and the accelerator’s reporting fully operational.” She looked up with a smile. “How does it feel?”

Lena grinned back at her. “I _should_ be nervous about...everything, really? But this...it feels _amazing._ Like I could take on the world.”

Angela chuckled. “All in good time, _schäri._ Let’s start with London, mm?”

Lena nodded. “I’ll go draw the rest of my kit and see if I can use the training range - meet you back in...two hours?”

“Just be careful not to overwork yourself, Lena. We’ll have plenty to do soon enough.”

Lena saluted. “Yes ma’am...but right now I suppose you’d better start calling me Tracer.”

* * *

If she was honest, Angela had neglected her own equipment in favor of helping Lena and “repairing” Widowmaker.

She’d drawn up some rough ideas for improvements and upgrades to her staff and the Valkyrie, but she’d done little to move ahead with them beyond the initial design and mockup stages.

An error she would have to address later. She had no time to correct it now.

She’d left the uniform cap and bright blue field tunic she’d worn over the shell of her suit back at Overwatch headquarters, leaving her with the pristine white armor and its projected energy “wings”, the blue and white puncture resistant bodysuit she’d worn beneath it, and lightly armored boots.

When she was performing battlefield medicine or coordinating search and rescue efforts, the highly visible suit had been ideal. Now, supporting what was essentially a covert operation, she needed a bit more subtlety.

She masked off the soft sections of her suit, sprayed a dull grey primer over the white, then a few coats of matte black.

It wouldn’t do anything about the light from her wings or the glow emitted by her staff when in use, but it would at least make her slightly less of an obvious target flitting around the area.

Replacing her bodysuit with a plain black one had been equally simple - most of Talon’s rank and file wore similar gear beneath their own armor.

She left her staff and pistol untouched - she did not want to risk doing anything that would impact their functionality. A compromise, but a necessary one.

Once the paint had dried, she quickly dressed, feeling the suit reach out to form connections with the nanotech in her body, becoming as much a part of her as her hands or feet. The wings deployed at her mental command, flexing and collapsing a few times as she ensured all was working as it should.

Lena would be back soon. She had one last thing to do.

Cycling open Widowmaker’s chamber, Angela felt a brief pang of regret that she couldn’t allow Amélie the leeway to act freely, but there were enough risks and complications already in play. Potentially exposing that she’d awakened her friend’s mind from beneath Talon’s control was unacceptable.

Besides, as much as Angela hated to admit it, Widowmaker would never hesitate to take a shot.

Amélie was another matter, and even a split second of doubt or reluctance could be fatal in this situation.

She removed the inducers keeping her asleep, and just as before Widowmaker woke and sat upright. “Doctor.”

“Good afternoon, Widowmaker.” Angela performed a diagnostic scan on her by instinct, these days. “How are you feeling?”

“I am awake and have no discomfort.”

Angela sighed inwardly. She shouldn’t have expected a different answer, but she did _hope_ for the possibility. “Very well. We will be deploying for an operation in London in a few hours. Please suit up and verify all of your equipment is in proper working order.”

She’d swear Widowmaker _almost_ looked offended at the suggestion that her rifle and other tools were in anything less than perfect condition. “Very well. Do I have mission parameters?”

Angela considered how to put it. “You will be supporting efforts to engage hostile omnic forces in London. Reconnaissance and providing sniping support will be your primary roles for the operation. I would expect to receive more information once we’re in the air.”

Widowmaker smiled slightly, apparently delighted by the prospect of imminent combat. “I will be ready.”

Angela waited until the lab door had shut behind Widowmaker before she let herself slump with a sigh. “That makes one of us, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracer's Talon uniform and the redesigned accelerator are based on [Nine's](http://senshi-9.tumblr.com/post/161418491049/rough-talon-tracer-concept-based-on-this-piece) awesome Talon Tracer art, with her permission.


	6. Non-maleficence

Widowmaker ran across a rooftop, leapt into the air, and fired her grapple, hearing it bite into the cornice of the building she wished to use for her next sniping perch with a satisfying _clink_.

Rolling with the impact as she landed, she drew her rifle and began to scan through her scope, watching as Null Sector omnics patrolled down a narrow street.  
  
_Even machines can be overconfident. They believe they hold the area so securely that they do not need to look up._

She reached up and tapped the comm earbud. “Widowmaker - in position,” she whispered, “three trooper type omnics advancing towards you, one Eradicator supporting them.”

Mercy’s voice was cool and clipped in her ear, the doctor in her ‘professional’ aspect. “Roger. Can you get a good shot on the Eradicator?”

Her lips turned up into a little smile. “Already done. Ready to engage.”

“Acknowledged. Tracer? Are you in position?”

The little brunette’s voice was far too chipper for a woman going into combat with untested equipment. “Roger. Just waiting for your go.”

“Go in once Widowmaker has the Eradicator down - I’ll be be covering you! Widow - you are clear to engage.”

Widowmaker let her breathing slow and then stop, the cybernetic lung the doctor had installed in her body continuing to provide oxygen as her heart slowed in response.

Her finger stroked the trigger, and the Eradicator’s power core exploded, the shield it had been projecting fizzing and then fading away as the combat unit toppled to the ground.

The troopers reacted to the larger unit going offline, turning to fire on her position. Tracer grabbed their attention as she teleported into their midst, a blur of red energy trailing her as she blasted one, then disappeared, clearing a lane for Widowmaker to put another down with a shot through its glaring red optic. Another burst of light as Tracer appeared to swim through the air, returning to the position she’d left a moment before, and she riddled the final trooper with pulse rounds.

Four down. Hundreds still remained between them and their objective.

“Good work,” Mercy called as she floated in from the side alley where she’d waited in case either of them had needed medical support. “Tracer - any issues?”

Widowmaker flicked her scope over to watch Tracer give a thumbs up. “Right as rain!”

“Good.” The doctor’s head turned in the direction of her perch. “Widowmaker - can you scout ahead?”

She slung her rifle and began running for the next rooftop - she’d grapple to the top of one of the taller office buildings to observe the next major intersection and the small plaza that surrounded the theater. “Acknowledged.”

Moving from rooftop to rooftop as they employed these hit and fade tactics was demanding, but Widowmaker preferred it to being idle. Clear directions. Objectives. Mission profiles. The thrill of a good shot and the satisfying glow that came from eliminating a target.

When she was not on the battlefield or in the rifle range, it was...disjointed. Confusing. Looking at the doctor ( _Angela)_ and remembering conversations she had not taken part in. Memories of having tea. Conversations. A discussion with Tracer ( _Lena)_ that seemed to be in the chamber, before she’d received the glowing implant that now rested above her heart.

Talking about Overwatch. Calling her a name that was no longer supposed to have any meaning. _(Amélie. I am Amélie. I AM!)_ Discussing Talon and if it could be...redirected.

As she tried to remember the conversation she felt a pressure in the sides of her head, and a single overriding thought: **The enemies of Talon must be eliminated.** _(No!)_

_If they are part of Talon they cannot be the enemy of Talon. Can they?_

Widowmaker pushed the confusion away as she scanned for more targets, her recon visor dropping into place over her eyes, heat signatures blooming into life in shades of red and gold. “More omnics approaching from the Northeast.”

Focus on the targets. Complete the mission.

She ought to report her confusion to Mercy - both as her doctor and as her controller. But...

She caught a flash of red light, followed by a trailing pair of brilliant blue wings, like the colors of a gas flame. ( _Gérard always joked about the angel watching over him.)_

The sudden pain at her temples made her flinch, a hand coming up reflexively to her head before she shook herself.

“Widowmaker?” Mercy’s voice had an edge of concern. “Your heart rate spiked for a moment there. Are you hurt?”

“Negative.” She crouched at the edge of the roof, drawing a bead on the omnic at the rear of the advancing patrol. “I am functional.”

“...understood. Are you ready to engage?”

“ _Affirmative._ ”

One shot. One kill.

She would complete the mission. Everything else was secondary.

* * *

Angela grunted as she took cover in the lobby of what she thought had been a pub before Null Sector had blasted most of it.

She’d taken a few hits as she’d flown back and forth between Tracer and Widowmaker’s positions, but between her own nanites and the regenerative boost from her staff she was physically whole, if fairly sore.

They’d done their best to avoid the bulk of the omnic forces occupying the area, but each time a patrol or observation pod was knocked out, their linked networks noticed nodes going offline and directed more forces into the area. Every victory promised greater opposition in the next encounter...and then suddenly it began to change.

The last patrol had been troopers and the smaller slicers, no command units at all. Which didn’t make sense...unless…

She put a hand to the her ear, tapping her comm. “Mercy to Widowmaker.”

“Widowmaker here.”

“I believe there may be other parties engaging Null Sector forces. Can you sweep to check for other hostilities while Tracer and I hold position?”

Widowmaker went quiet for a moment, and Angela wondered if she’d said something that offended her before the sniper finally replied. “Roger. I will report back shortly.”

She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck the instant before there was a crack of displacing air, and Lena appeared, quickly moving behind a heavy wooden table that had been overturned. “I think I used to come here for quiz night.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “I doubt we’ll have the luxury any time soon.”

“Well,” Lena grinned, “not this trip. But maybe next time we’re in town. Assuming we don’t get shot on sight…”

Angela was thinking of a good retort when Widowmaker’s voice interrupted her train of thought.

“ _Docteur._ ”

Something in the tone, along with the language shift, sent danger signals through Angela’s mind. “You found something.”

“Four blocks to the west. The remains of another group of omnics.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose, and Angela pulled open one of the equipment pouches on her belt and pulled out a small hologram projector. “Show me.”

Eight Null Sector omnics littered the street - including distinctive pieces of what had been a bastion unit, now riddled with bullets, and what looked like... _Oh, no._

“Widowmaker - I need to see what is left of the Bastion unit’s power core.”

Lena moved closer so she could see the projection as Widowmaker zoomed in with her visor. The bastion’s core was fairly free of dents and shell holes, but it had been nearly cleaved in half by an edged weapon - that had been able to cut through three inches of hardened armor and through the reinforced power cell like it was butter.

The edges of the cut weren’t sharp, though - they’d been rounded off and almost had a glass-like sheen to them, as if the weapon had been so hot that it had melted everything in its’ path.

“Can you check the bodies to see if any of them were killed by a single shot to the CPU?”

Widowmaker actually sounded faintly surprised. “How did you know that?”

Angela sighed. “Because I know who Gabriel would trust with a mission like this. Get back in position to cover us - we need to move quickly.”

Lena waited for her to cut her comm and put away the projector before she spoke. “McCree and Shimada?”

Angela nodded. “Blackwatch’s finest killers - and their most ruthless.”

“This can’t be authorized.” Lena frowned. “Blackwatch is supposed to be off the radar - this is anything but. And how did they move so fast?”

“If I had to guess, they were already in London and waiting for an opening - which we unwittingly provided.” Angela sighed as she stood, checking her staff. “I have no doubt they mean well - but if those two are providing the ‘rescue’, collateral damage is all too likely. This needs to be a surgical strike.”

Lena grinned cockily. “Well. Then I guess we ought to get ready to operate.”

* * *

Widowmaker wasn’t sure if she felt hate for anything, thanks to her programming. _(Liar)_ Hate was a strong emotion. Such emotions interfered with judgement,  lead to hesitation ( _Gérard_ ) and mistakes. ( _Forgive me my love.)_ She might say she...disliked things. She disliked missing shots. She disliked the way several men looked at her when she moved around the lab complex and the training areas. ( _Pigs.)_ She disliked the implication she was not sufficient to accomplish missions by herself. ( _ **I** need them.) _

Now, she could add ‘attempting to keep her presence covert inside an industrial power complex’ to the list.

The Blackwatch agents who had become their unwitting accomplices (and competition) had done something to blast open the front gates, sending most of the remaining omnics to face them, while she had abseiled onto the roof and made her way down an inspection crawlway until she’d reached a platform she could use as a sniping position. It was filthy, hot, and cramped. She’d left a few mines to cover her path, but it was likely she’d only get one shot from this area before needing to move, and her options for cover were quite limited.

At least it gave her a good vantage point on their primary objective.

The human hostages had been arranged in a loose semicircle, most with bound wrists and ankles, and showed signs of malnutrition, but were otherwise unharmed so far. A bastion unit in its turret configuration covered them, and one of the OR-14 command units was positioned just out of its firing arc.

The OR-14 held the monk in one hand, the purple armored fist clashing with the white and gold of Mondatta’s chassis and faceplate.

She activated her visor and tapped her comm, murmuring as quietly as she could while still being understood. “Widowmaker to Mercy.”

“Go ahead.”

“I have located the hostages. One OR-14 unit and a bastion are guarding them. The monk is being held away from the humans.”

“Tracer, are you in position to breach the room?”

“Negative,” Tracer reported with a hint of frustration. “The Blackwatch team is blocking my advance - I can’t make it to the entrance I’d planned to use without getting caught in the crossfire. I’m trying to find another option.”

Mercy gave a little sigh. “Right. I’m coming up behind you - signal when there’s a good opening for me to join you, Tracer. Widow - report back if anything changes.”

She’d been about to acknowledge the order when movement grabbed her attention. “Wait. Something is happening.”

The OR-14’s head had come up, as if listening to some silent conversation. The omnic let out an almost musical burst of audio code language, and the bastion responded, advancing rounds into the minigun’s feed and loading with an audible _click-clack-click_.

“It appears they are preparing to eliminate the hostages.”

Angela’s voice grew tight. “Give me a situation report.”

The OR-14 marched forward, dragging the monk with it, then placed him a few feet from the bastion, between the turret and the hostages, before using the fusion drive that replaced its’ other hand to weld his feet to the floor.

“They have positioned the monk in front of the bastion’s turret. The hostages are arranged behind him.” Her eyes swept the room. “The OR-14 is heading for the exit - I believe it will be joining the others at the door.”

The bastion traversed back and forth, clearly rehearsing for sweeping death across the room, the red optic lingering for just a moment as it swept across Mondatta, obviously planning to use a slightly longer burst to blast through his torso before devastating the woman who had been seated behind him.

She zoomed in her scope, locking on to the power signature from the bastion’s core. “I have a shot...but it will require me to shoot through the monk.”

* * *

Angela was seized with a horrible indecision as Widowmaker’s words rang in her ears.

If she took the shot, it would guarantee the safety of the other hostages, and with a bit of help to secure the room, Blackwatch could be trusted to eliminate the OR-14s. Once that had been done, the other Null Sector omnics would be rendered almost harmless with the loss of tactical coordination.

The siege would be broken. Lives would be saved. Their mission would be a success.

There was only one small problem: If Widowmaker took the shot, Tekhartha Mondatta would die.

Scenarios ran through her head, but there was no time to consider anything complex. Null Sector had clearly already decided to eliminate the hostages. Any action they took had to eliminate the bastion before it could open fire.

_Sometimes we must cut away healthy tissue to remove a cancer._

Lena’s voice crackled in her ears. “Mercy, we have another problem - I have eyes on the Blackwatch team. They’re bringing up some kind of bomb!”

That added additional complications. “Any idea what type?”

“Not certain, but it’s _big_. I have no idea how they got this thing into the area undetected.”

The device was probably one of Torbjörns designs. That could make things worse - especially without the engineer there to properly prepare and place the bomb. If the power plant destabilized, it could be catastrophic.

Widowmaker’s voice had a slight edge of urgency. “The bastion’s loading sequence is complete and it is ready to fire.”

They were running out of time. “Is there any way you could reposition for the shot?”

“Negative. Not without risking detection.”

The other half of the equation was left unspoken:  _In which case the bastion would open fire regardless._

_A patient can live without a hand, a foot, an arm, a leg. They cannot live without a brain, or a heart. If gangrene, infection, or necrosis is spreading, sometimes amputation is the only way to guarantee their survival._

It wasn’t one life against twenty. It wasn’t even one life against a hundred. If they set off that bomb and even a single thing went wrong - the EMP not properly tuned, or the detonation not precisely controlled, it would be one life against _thousands_.

Angela closed her eyes. Mondatta had always seemed to be a wise, compassionate person. A charismatic leader who truly believed in equality and peace between humans and omnics.

She had to hope that others would rise to carry on his work. Because she could not accept risking thousands for one person, no matter how good that person was.

“Tracer - get in position to intercept the bomb. I will join you. We can’t allow it to be detonated. Widowmaker - _take the shot._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-maleficence: The physician must have two special objects in view with regard to disease, namely, to do good or to do no harm. _-Epidemics_ , Hippocrates.


	7. You Can't Go Home Again

If pressed, Lena had to admit she was loving this.

After so long being torn from the world, or trapped inside a box that kept her from interacting with nearly anyone, to be back in the Row with the cobbles under her feet and the London smoke in her nose was nice, but the feeling of _speed_ , of sheer ridiculous _power_ from the accelerator - god! It was like _being_ the plane.

It had been dangerous, it had been demanding, it had been _fun_...right up until it wasn’t.

She’d done her best to avoid the two Blackwatch agents that had been cutting a swath through Null Sector’s numbers, but the bomb had changed matters. The black device had several rotating wheels (or were they gears?) that slowly turned clockwise as the small hover pallet that carried it moved forward, while the black, grey, and red clad men advanced into the oncoming troopers, the ninja leaping and bouncing through their ranks and leaving destruction in his wake, while the cowboy methodically blasted them with his revolver, pausing only to reload.

She’d crept back up around the Fox and Fence so she could get a good look at the situation, then tapped her comm twice to signal Angela.

A few moments later Angela was alighting down from a rooftop to land next to her, a frown of concentration on her face. “I was right. That has to be one of Torbjörn’s. I wonder if he actually knows it’s here…?”

Lena shrugged. When she’d just been the test pilot - technically not even a full Overwatch member - she’d run into the Swedish engineer a few times, but for the most part those interactions were above her pay grade. “Got any guess how powerful it is? How close can we let it get to the power station?”

Angela shook her head. “I’m not a demolitionist, but I would say the further away we keep it, the better.”  
  
Lena nodded. “Have you heard from Widow?”  
  
“The bastion is down and the hostages are secure. She sealed the fire door and she’s working to make her way out to the roof again, but it will be a few minutes before she’ll be able to support us."

Lena didn’t ask about Tekhartha Mondatta. If Widow had to shoot through him to take the bastion out...the odds of that being a non-lethal shot weren’t good, but she wanted to hold out hope for just a little longer.

Still. Better dying to save lives than dying for nothing.

She took a deep breath and shoved everything down into her gut. Time enough to go through all of that later. Right now, they had to find a way to deal with that bomb.

“OK. Guess it’s up to us for now, then.” Lena took a look at the way both men moved to engage the Null Sector omnics while protecting the bomb. “I might be able to zip in and blast a couple of the platform’s supports. Slow it down, at least.”

“I don’t have a better plan,” Angela admitted, “I’ll cover you - go!”

Lena waited for both of the Blackwatch operatives to turn their attention to one of the remaining Null Sector OR-14s before she blinked in behind the bomb and fired a burst from her pistols into the hoverpod at the back left quarter of the platform, but to her surprise the cowling had been reinforced somehow - even after half a clip had been emptied into it, the bomb didn’t even wobble...and both the ninja and the cowboy had whirled, giving her their complete attention.

“Oh, _bugger._ ”

She attempted to zip clear of them and get into a position where Angela could back her up without moving straight into the line of fire, but the ninja was _fast_ and he actually managed to leap _into_ her path somehow.

Lena fired reflexively as he charged at her with a nasty looking short sword in his hand, and to her shock he began to swing - _bouncing the pulse rounds back at her._

She rewound herself back in time after a round grazed the side of her goggles, opening up a nasty cut on her temple, but before she could do much more than get her bearings, there was a sound like an old car backfiring, and she was being spun around from an impact as her shoulder burst into pain, blood flying from the entrance wound.

 _That’s_ really _not good,_ Lena managed to think, and then blackness was rushing up to meet her.

* * *

_“LENA!”_

Angela leapt into the air, surging forward as the Valkyrie swept her to where Tracer was sprawling on the ground, her staff and hands already filling with healing energies.

Her nanosurgeons locked on, and her mind was instantly filled with triage information.

_Major damage to supraspinatus, rotator cuff tendon, and subscapularis. Trauma to the superior labrum. Blood loss. Bullet lodged against scapula. Shock. Minor concussion._

She began to treat the wound, Lena’s face relaxing with a soft groan as she reconstructed the damaged tissues, pulling the bullet out and breaking down the fragments.

Angela was so absorbed in her work that she almost missed the sound of heavy boots and jingling spurs approaching her.

“ _Doc?!”_

Lena’s wound had nearly recovered, her eyes flickering open again beneath her goggles. Angela leaned down and whispered a quiet “ _Stay down”_ before she stood, making sure not to put a hand near her pistol as she turned to face Jesse McCree.

“I will be God-Damned.” McCree’s eyes widened as she rose, shock evident in his bearing, while Genji watched her like a hunting cat, pacing back and forth as if considering her for a meal.

“The boss told us there were rumors you’d started working with Talon, but if I’m honest I didn’t really believe a word of it.” McCree’s cigarillo flared as he took a deep drag, then reached up to pluck the foul smelling thing from his mouth. “Just what in the _hell_ are you doing here?”

Angela tried to give him as kind of a smile as she could. “Would you believe me if I said ‘the right thing’?”

“Funny way of goin’ about it.” Jesse took a few steps closer and gave a low whistle as he got a good look at Lena’s face. “We’d been wondering what happened to our ghost.”

“Jack wasn’t going to allow us to do anything for her,” Angela replied softly, “so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” McCree holstered his weapon, but she knew how fast of a draw he could perform. They weren’t any more or less in danger now. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doin’ here, Angie.”

“The prime minister wasn’t going to do anything about the hostages,” Angela countered, “and Null Sector wasn’t going to hold back much longer. We had resources...that could be put to good use.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “Resources.”

Widowmaker’s voice was suddenly in her ear. “I am moving into position. Give me a target.” 

“Jesse,” she answered them both, “the hostages are secure. All that is required is cleanup. Your bomb will not be needed. Do you even know what to _do_ with that thing without Torbjörn clucking over it like a hen? You can remove the remaining command units without putting this entire _block_ at risk."

Jesse seemed to consider that. “All the hostages are safe? You can promise that?"

Angela nodded. “We were too late for Mayor Nandah or Tekhartha Mondatta - but the rest, yes.” Not the complete truth, but by the time Jesse or anyone else knew otherwise, perhaps they could be gone.

Genji scoffed. “Are you _seriously_ listening to her? After what she did?”

Angela bristled. “The only thing I’ve _done_ , Genji, is attempt to save lives - just as I did with _you._ ”

She caught McCree wincing as Genji scoffed. “Yes. Thank you for making me into a _freak_ , _Doctor._ Should I be grateful you didn’t cart _me_ off to Talon with the rest of what you stole?”

Angela tried to swallow her anger. _I took what belonged to me_ , _or what Jack insisted Overwatch no longer wanted._ “I did what I felt necessary.”

Genji’s hand went to the hilt of his shorter blade. “If that’s what you want to call becoming a _traitor._ ”

“The Overwatch I swore an oath to join would never have left one of their own trapped in _hell_ ,” Angela snapped back, “or let innocent people die because of budget, political negotiations, or ‘oversight concerns.’ If Morrison had half of Gabriel’s commitment, a strike team would have been dropping into King’s Row a _month_ ago. Don’t lecture me about being a traitor when Jack has betrayed all of _us._ ”

Angela’s hands tightened on her staff as she looked over at Jesse. “All you need to do is remove the last of the command units - there’s at least one that was in the power plant that was en route to the door. Recover the hostages and no one needs to know we were here. Disarm the bomb. _Please._ ”

The standoff continued for a few more seconds before McCree nodded slowly. “Our mission is to get the hostages out. You’ve already helped us - an’ I suppose you’re part of why we saw a little less trouble on the way, so we owe you for that too.”

Genji turned, his body going rigid with shock. “ _What are you doing?”_

“The boss told us to get this done no matter what it took.” Jesse’s eyes flicked to Angela, then back. “I’m completin’ the mission.”

“ _No!”_ Genji’s hand rose to the hilt of his katana. “She doesn’t get to _walk away_ from this!”

Widowmaker’s voice was taut with intensity. “I have a shot.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Angela said softly, and McCree’s head snapped towards her as she lifted the tip of her staff, the beam of nanosurgeons washing over Genji - and interfacing with the technology that had been implanted throughout his body.

Genji’s sword sang as the blade left the scabbard, but it was already too late for him - her command was already being sent into his cybernetic control bus.

 _MOTIVE SUBSYSTEMS OVERRIDE AZ!1:_ **_HALT AND CATCH FIRE._ **

Genji’s angry shout of Japanese turned to a strangled noise of confusion and outrage as his artificial legs and arm all locked, his sword arm frozen mid-strike, one leg extending like a Greek frieze. Tilting as he overbalanced, he crashed to the ground just few inches from the bomb, his sword clattering out of his hands.

“I think you can stand up now, Lena.” Angela looked over at Jesse, his jaw slack. “He’s still alive, and whomever took over my position can restart the systems I shut down. Now - _disarm the bomb._ ”

“Still got those last OR-14s left,” McCree objected.

Angela sighed. “We’ll help you.” She looked up to the rooftops. “Widowmaker -”

“Acknowledged.” There was a flicker of movement as the sniper repositioned herself, and within a few moments the targeting information was appearing for the final two Null Sector command units. “Tracer?”

Lena finished dusting herself off and nodded, rolling out her repaired shoulder. “Right - long as someone doesn’t put another bullet in me.”

McCree pulled a black and yellow striped box from a pocket on his uniform pants and twisted a key. A few moments later the bomb stopped pulsing, and the antigrav pods in the platform slowly lowered it to the ground. “Fine.”

Angela raised her staff as Lena zipped off .”We should get to work.”

McCree put up a hand. “One sec. Before we get back to it...doc...who told you to put that boobytrap in Genji’s works?”

“Commander Morrison was very concerned about the risk of Genji deciding to go rogue. He insisted that a failsafe be put in place in case anything...untoward...occurred.” She looked down at Genji, who stared up at her with hatred burning in his eyes, then back to McCree, who was clearly wrestling with sudden doubts. “Ana and Gabriel did not object. Maybe you should consider that, Jesse.”

_I certainly have._

* * *

After they assisted with destroying the remaining two OR-14 units, Widowmaker lead the team back to their extraction point, leaving the Blackwatch operative who had accompanied them to the mouth of the power plant to release the hostages.

She racked Widow’s Kiss in the weapons locker of the small transport, then settled into one of the jumpseats for their flight back as she watched the doctor sit next to Tracer, who had slumped down with an air of utter exhaustion.

She watched as ( _Angela, I can just call her Angela)_ took her gloves off, then put a hand on the shoulder that had been wrecked before she had used her abilities to repair it.  “Lena? How are you doing?”

Tracer shook her head, then pulled her goggles off before she sat up and leaned back. “I don’t know. I mean...we did good. I know we did. But a few things are hitting me…what you said to McCree…Shimada…”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Mondatta?”

Tracer sighed as she closed her eyes. "I used to say I'd buy his book. Study it. Take the time to go to one of the little temples the Shambali built for people to come and learn more. Maybe even get a chance to see him speak." Lena sighed. "I still believe Omnics and Humans can live together. That they deserve to be treated equally...but it's not really the same now, is it? They'll name a new head of the order, but it's not _him_."

Widowmaker didn’t really know what she felt about the philosophy, but that last part was certainly true. After all, she’d watched her shot burst through the monk’s cranium before penetrating the bastion’s armor and shattering its power core, and how both omnics' sensors and optics had flickered and gone dark within moments of each other.

Whoever took over the Shambali would most certainly _not_ be Mondatta, because the monk was very, very dead.

She was quite satisfied with the shot, and there had been an odd feeling beneath it when she’d confirmed that the remaining hostages would be safe after she shot out the chain that prevented the fire door from falling into place. It wasn’t the normal rush of pleasure she felt after a kill, or the excitement of a fight. If she had to try to quantify it...she almost thought it had been _relief_.  

How very strange.

Angela wrapped an arm around Tracer’s shoulders, and they sat in silence for the remainder of the flight.

When they reached the base, they gathered their equipment and left the transport to find the Director waiting for them.

Angela straightened to something like attention as she gave the older man a nod. “Antoine.”

The Director smiled. “Doctor. Reports are starting to come through about the siege being lifted - and the rescue of the hostages. Well done. You and your team have exceeded our expectations.”

Angela’s body language relaxed slightly, and Widowmaker felt a slight urge to step a bit closer to her. Of course they had been successful. How could they have expected anything less?

“I appreciate that. Were you aware that Blackwatch had a team operating in King’s Row as well?”

“No…” The Director frowned. “That is rather concerning. An unsanctioned operation?”

“From what I could determine,” Angela confirmed, “yes. We had to take...steps. I assume you are familiar with Genji Shimada?”

“Ah. Yes, Some of your earlier work.”

Angela seemed to tense up at that remark. “In a sense. I was forced to...neutralize him. If you have any operations planned that might benefit from his absence, now would be an excellent time for them.”

The Director’s mouth took on a paper thin smile. “An unexpected bonus. _Fantastic_ work, Doctor Ziegler. Tracer. Widowmaker. We’ll hold a proper debriefing tomorrow.”

Angela nodded in a way that was almost a salute, then headed for her lab, Tracer trailing behind. She had been about to join them when the Director spoke again.

“Widowmaker. A word.”

**You will obey Talon’s commands.**

She froze. “Sir.”

The Director’s smile was gone. “I understand Tekhartha Mondatta was a casualty.”

She stared, unblinking. “That is correct.”

“Was he destroyed by Null Sector?”

“No.” She shook her head slightly. “He was positioned in front of the Bastion that had been left to eliminate the hostages. My only option to neutralize it from my position was a domino shot through Tekhartha Mondatta to destroy the Bastion’s power core.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Was Doctor Ziegler aware of this?”

She nodded to him. “I took the shot on Doctor Ziegler’s orders.”

The director went quiet as he considered that, then looked back at where Angela’s wings could be seen disappearing through the doors to her lab. “How interesting.” Turning back, he nodded.

“Thank you, Widowmaker. That will be all.”

She could not explain why their exchange gave her a feeling of unease as she returned to the lab.

Perhaps she would speak to the doctor after all.


	8. Take A Breath

Fatigue had started to drag Angela down while they were on the transport.

She didn’t regret the decisions she’d made. Not really.  She’d been presented with choices and she’d made them.

But she was tired. God, but she was tired.

She peeled away the armored plates and core of her suit, leaving the bodysuit on, then put her pistol and staff up for servicing almost on autopilot. Just as she would have after an Overwatch deployment, really.

She looked over to the stabilization chamber window and saw Lena hanging up the accelerator on a storage rack, then gave herself a moment to enjoy the sight of her (...lover? Girlfriend? They hadn’t really discussed labels) pulling off her jacket, then tugging up the hem of her compression top, rolling it up over the edge of the anchor implant before pulling it off the rest of the way.

Angela lost herself in the sight of Lena’s lean muscles as she moved, opening the locker they’d given her for clothes and drawing out the sports bra she’d worn in before they’d been given this mission.

Had that really only been two days ago?

It felt like a week had passed.

The sound of the door opening startled her out of her woolgathering, and she looked over to see Widowmaker entering, giving her a nod.

“I didn’t realize you hadn’t followed us in,” Angela admitted. “Are you alright, Widowmaker?”

She’d expected Widow to roll her eyes, scoff, perhaps say something like she was feeling satisfied after the mission or that she was ready for maintenance. Instead, she shook her head and placed her rifle in the storage cabinet, then put her recon visor and gauntlet in their proper places before shutting the door and moving to sit on the exam table / bed. “I have been feeling...out of spec.”

Angela frowned, crossing the room to her. “How so?”

“Moments of...memories. I think. But I do not recall them taking place. It is...concerning. When I try to think of them, I start to get headaches.” Widowmaker frowned. “The Director asked me to give him information on the mission. I provided a report. He did not seem displeased, but I still feel…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I performed my mission. The operation was a success. But I do not feel as I should.”

_Shit._

She hadn’t considered the possibility of Amélie’s subconscious mind pushing back harder against the Widowmaker programming. There hadn’t been any indications of it earlier.

“I see.” Angela kept her face as neutral as she could. “Did you tell him about your...issues?”

Widowmaker shook her head. “No. I only reported on the matters he requested. I obeyed orders.”

Angela nodded. That was good, at least.  “I’ll see about checking some of your implants during your next maintenance. For now, do you want to change out of your suit so it can be cleaned?”

Widowmaker shrugged. “If you feel it needs cleaned.” She stood, and began to strip.

“I think it’s generally a good idea after several hours of urban combat, yes.” Angela fumed silently at the way Talon had treated Amélie. “I took the liberty of getting you some casual clothes. A shirt, some sweatpants, and underwear.”

She pulled the bag of clothes out from where she’d left it and put it on the table. Widow looked at them, then back, and her expression softened from the usual neutral gaze she was used to seeing when Amélie was not in full control of her mind. “Thank you, Angela.”

She smiled. “It was no trouble. You do not need to live in that suit, you know.”

Widowmaker shrugged again, and her expression shifted back to something more like her normal one. “I suppose not. My previous controller never provided an alternative.”

Angela gave a disgusted _tsch_. “Yes, well, that is why we have been making improvements.”

Widowmaker finished dressing just as Lena came out into the main lab, dressed in one of her new pairs of jeans and a t-shirt, scrubbing at her hair with a towel. “Oh, good. You ought to have some clothes besides that stupid suit, you know?”

Widowmaker scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with my suit. It protects adequately and allows for easy mobility.”

Lena rolled her eyes, but there was no heat in her words. “It’s _reflective purple_ , luv. Aren’t you worried the sun will catch off that bum of yours and give you away?”

Widowmaker seemed to recognize she was being teased. “That is an interesting point of view from the woman with a glowing target in her chest.”

Lena giggled. “OK! See? You’re getting the hang of working with a partner.”

Angela shook her head. “I think I’d like to change and go get some sleep.”

“You should eat,” Lena reminded her. “You burned a bunch of calories in the suit if nothing else.” Her smile turned crooked. “We couldn't exactly stop for lunch, yeah?”

Angela considered that, then nodded. “True enough. We can get some food on the way out.” She looked over to Widowmaker. “Do you need anything?”

Widowmaker looked up from where she’d been running her fingers over the material of her new shirt. “The standard glucose injection will provide sufficient calories.”

Lena blanched. “Oh, god, what? No! You don’t _eat?_ ”

Widowmaker tilted her head. “I _can_ eat. This is what was provided by my previous -”

“Controller,” Angela finished with a sigh. “Yes. For tonight...I’ll give you an injection. But we will work on reintroducing a regular diet later. Your body’s modifications have been updated and your caloric needs are a bit different, now.”

Widowmaker settled down on her bed and closed her eyes, clearly expecting to be put back to sleep. “Very well.”

* * *

At Lena’s insistence they’d called in a pizza order on their way back to the apartment, and before long they were sitting down in the living room with two pizzas and a large container of salad that they split between them, occasionally pulling slices out of the box.

“Do you usually eat like this after a mission?”

Lena shook her head. “Not when I was flying, but after all the adrenaline started to burn off I was famished.” She shrugged, giving a tired grin. “I _was_ running around an awful lot.”  
  
Angela looked at her thoughtfully, then extended her fingers to gently rest against Lena’s wrist, gathering a quick reading of her vitals. “Your blood sugar is rather low, even considering how much you burned through exertion...I’ll have to keep an eye on that. I wonder if the accelerator affects your metabolism?”

“Seems possible,” Lena mumbled around the last of her salad, then pulled another slice of pizza from the box. “Want to do some tests later?”

Angela took another slice of her own. “If you don’t mind, I think it’s a good idea.” She smiled. “If nothing else - if you’re going to need to eat like this after every time you use it, we should buy more groceries.”

Lena grinned, then leaned back in on the couch as she finished the piece of pizza and raised her hands.

_Safe to talk like this?_

Angela nodded. They hadn’t used sign much since Lena had been stabilized in time, but it was a good idea just in case there was a bug in the apartment she hadn’t found. _Yes, let’s._

_Why didn’t you wake dancer up?_

It took her a moment to realize Lena meant Amélie.

_Too risky. The boss was asking spider some questions about the mission. We need to keep her quiet a little longer to avoid trouble. Spider told me she remembered some things from while dancer was up._

Lena’s eyes widened. _Did she tell him about that?_

_No. But I don’t want to take chances._

Lena nodded. _So what do we do?_

Angela frowned. _We need a reason to keep her awake that Talon would accept. I have to think about that._

_Could we bring her back here for a few days? Feed her?_

_I’d like to. We’ll try soon._

Lena reached for another slice, the covert side of the conversation done for now. “So...you asked how I was doing...how are you?”

“I’m doing as well as could be expected.” Angela took one of the last slices of pizza for herself before Lena could snag it. “I made decisions that I will have to live with, but given the circumstances I don’t think I could have made different ones with the information I had.” She curled her legs under her on the couch cushion and looked down at her hands. Covered in grease, not blood, but she still felt an urge to wash them.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to commit to a course knowing that someone could die. When you’re a surgeon, working on a patient, you have to make your decision and stick to it - adjust depending on circumstances or how their body responds, yes, but there’s no such thing as a ‘do over’ once you start cutting. You took an action - you have to accept that, and be able to live with the consequences, or you might as well hang it up there and then.” Angela sighed. “Every single action you take when you’re performing an operation has to be decisive, or the consequences to the patient could be disastrous. The actions I took...the decisions I made...were much the same.”

Lena scooted closer and put a sympathetic hand on her arm. “I understand that, Angie. But...really. How are _you_ right now?”

Angela picked up a napkin and wiped her hands clean, then reached out to pull Lena to her. Lena’s arms wrapped around her tightly, and she buried her head in Lena’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Lena murmured softly as she kissed her temple, “me, too.”

* * *

Debriefings at Talon weren’t so different from the way things went at Overwatch, really.

Antoine had sent a message asking them to meet in a conference room about an hour before lunch. When Angela, Lena, and Widowmaker arrived, Antoine was waiting at the head of the table, facing a large set of displays.

“Good morning. Please, come in and sit down. Would any of you care for coffee? Tea?”

Angela accepted a cup of steaming black coffee, back in her normal slacks, a turtleneck sweater, and a lab coat. Lena, unsurprisingly, made herself a cup of tea, wearing a dark grey top and black tights, and Widowmaker refrained from both, still clad in the same sweats and t-shirt Angela had provided to her yesterday.

That made Angela smile a little. A humanizing touch amid all that had been done to Amélie - in some cases by her own hand. Giving Widowmaker a taste of some normalcy. Perhaps enough to help her feel a bit more comfortable.

(She was going to pitch a better and more practical uniform for Widowmaker, soon enough...but she really ought to finish upgrading the Valkyrie suit and the rest of her equipment first.)

Once they were all settled at the table, Antoine tapped a key to dim the lights, and the displays began shifting to show maps of King’s Row and the operation areas.

They walked through the operation almost minute by minute, with Antoine occasionally stopping to ask each of them questions, clarify decisions, or ask for details on the opposition.

When they reached the point where Widowmaker found evidence of Genji and McCree’s presence in the occupied zone,something in the tone of the room shifted slightly. There was a slowly growing tension until they’d reached the point where Widowmaker had infiltrated the power station, and Angela and Lena had moved to intercept the bomb.

“Do you really think it was appropriate to send Widowmaker into the power station? She could have aided you in eliminating the Blackwatch threat.”

Angela looked over to Antoine and considered her reply for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee to buy herself a moment to compose her thoughts. “I had several reasons for the decision. First and foremost, Widowmaker was already in a position to infiltrate, while Tracer and I would have needed time to locate a way in, and time was in very short supply.”

Antoine nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“Widowmaker’s visor gave her the ability to quickly locate the hostages, and she had the tools to move stealthily into position once she had determined where they were being held.” Angela took another sip, then set her mug down. “I admit that having her in place might have been useful against McCree and Shimada, but if I had not sent her in, it’s entirely possible Null Sector would have successfully eliminated all of the hostages. That was a risk we could not take.”

Antoine considered that, then gave a little grunt. “Very well. Please, continue.”

Antoine didn’t speak again until Widowmaker described the situation with the hostages, and Angela giving her the order to destroy the bastion unit - and Mondatta.

“I have to admit this surprised me, doctor.” Antoine fixed her with a gaze like a shark. “Especially after our discussion before you deployed for the operation.”

Angela could feel Lena bristling, and put a hand on her thigh to help keep her calm, waiting until Lena relaxed before giving Antoine an answer. “You said yourself that Talon is concerned with protecting humanity. The lives of the other hostages - and those who would have been at risk if Blackwatch had destabilized the power station with their bomb - were in the balance. Tekhartha Mondatta was one omnic against hundreds of other lives. The decision was not as complicated as you seem to imply.”

Antoine smiled slightly. “I’m pleased to hear that. It shows a level of...consideration...we appreciate in someone leading field operations.”

Angela nodded coolly. “Thank you, Antoine. May we continue?”

“Of course.”

By the time they’d completed walking through the rest of the operation, it was well into the afternoon. Lena was bouncing her leg beneath the table, and Angela would swear she actually heard Lena’s stomach rumbling.

“I think there are some areas that might be improved with continued training,” Antoine observed, “but particularly given the impromptu nature of the mission and Miss Oxton’s equipment -”

“Excuse me.” Lena raised a hand. “May I ask a favor, please?”

Antoine raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.

“You keep referring to me as Miss Oxton. I think I’d really prefer you give me my proper rank, even if I’ve left the service, or use Tracer, please.”

Antoine made a soft little ‘ah’ sound and straightened slightly. “Lieutenant Oxton, then. I apologize.”

Lena smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. As I was saying, given the circumstances, I have no problem calling this operation a success, and you will be commended. We obviously cannot provide medals or anything of that nature, but you can each expect a bonus in your compensation.”

“All three of us?” Angela’s eyes flicked to Widowmaker, who looked at her with a slight head tilt, confusion in her expression.

Antoine frowned. “Widowmaker is an _asset_ , doctor.”

“As are we all,” Angela agreed, “but there is no reason not to give her a share of the rewards, given her importance to the mission’s success.”

“I...will see what I can arrange,” Antoine compromised, but Angela took a bit of satisfaction that it wasn’t a _no_. “Tracer, Widowmaker, you are dismissed. Doctor...I’d like a word in private.”

Now it was Lena’s turn to give her a reassuring squeeze before she stood and rounded the table, lightly tapping Widowmaker on her shoulder before she rose. “Come on, you - let’s see if the cafeteria has anything worth calling lunch.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes, but she followed Lena without complaint. Angela considered calling out a suggestion to stick to vegetables and lean protein until they can discuss a diet, but the door closed before she could say anything.

Antoine followed her gaze to the door, and smiled before sitting back and giving her a thoughtful look. “For someone with a reputation of being a pacifist, doctor, you have a gift for creating _exceptional_ weapons.”

Angela grimaced a bit despite her best attempts to keep a neutral expression. “I suppose that will be my legacy, then. I take it you were satisfied with Tracer and Widowmaker’s performance in the field?”

“Quite. Some of my...colleagues...were quite skeptical of how you would perform in the crisis, but I had no doubt you would succeed.” He leaned forward, and his eyes grew dangerously cold. “However, I would ask you to be mindful of overstepping your authority. Questioning me in regards to Widowmaker was very close to being out of line.”

“I disagree.” Angela kept her voice firm and controlled. “May I speak frankly, Antoine?”

He raised a hand. “By all means.”

“Widowmaker’s controls are extensive - I’ve made a point of examining them and making good use of them as I’ve worked to improve her - but there is something they lack.”

“Go on…”

Angela smiled. “Widowmaker is compelled - programmed - but there is no guarantee of actual _loyalty_.”

Antoine’s expression shifted to guarded interest. “Are you suggesting altering her programming?”

“No,” Angela replied, “not exactly.” _Not yet, anyway._ “I’m suggesting...augmenting it, you might say. Widowmaker is obviously aware of her value as a weapon. But what I would like to do is help her to feel valued _by Talon_. To reinforce bonds with her teammates. Suggesting she receive compensation is part of that. Her previous controller, frankly, treated her little better than a blow up doll. Providing her with enticements and perks like more time awake, some time outside of the lab, better uniforms, and the like will help to correct that.”

Antoine tapped his fingers on the desk. “When you put it like that…I see your point. Widowmaker was not previously compensated, obviously, but it would not be difficult to establish a cover identity and bank account, particularly with the work you’ve done to make her somewhat less...distinctive.”

Angela nodded. “Thank you, Antoine. Will there be anything else?”

He stood, shaking his head. “Not for now - but we do expect to have an opportunity to put Tracer and Widowmaker back into the field again soon, as we discussed.”

Angela nodded. “Will I be accompanying them?”

“Perhaps. I do admit that some of my colleagues are curious to see how they will operate as a pair in the field, without your direct support.” Antoine shrugged. “We will see how the situation unfolds.”

Angela frowned, but she could see the point. If nothing else it was a way to prove that same loyalty she’d just spoken of cultivating. “Very well. Good day, Antoine.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”


	9. Shattered Legacy

The hospital room was bathed in light from the wide window that looked out on Geneva, the Alps rising into the horizon.

It was a fairly picturesque view, but Ana Amari had already grown to hate it.

She hated the smell. She hated the little noises. She hated the needles in her arms and the oxygen cannula in her nose.

If she had one tiny bit of solace, it was that Fareeha was still on duty in Ras el Tin, and probably wouldn’t be able to get leave before she would be discharged from the recovery ward. Even at the lowest points of their relationship, Ana would never have wanted her daughter to see her like this.

She’d been in this room - in this damned bed - for a week now. She’d been asleep for the first two days, after the surgeries that had saved her life, but it hadn’t taken long for her to get sick of lying in bed alone with her thoughts.

Bayless and Singh were gone. Al-Farouk had needed his bowel resected and lost a kidney. His career in Overwatch was likely over.

She’d failed to protect her family - and she hadn’t even managed to kill the bitches who had been responsible.

Part of her wished she’d never woken up.

The door opening broke her away from those dark thoughts, and she looked at the clock on the wall in confusion. It was two hours before her next scheduled dose of medication, and she had asked for no visitors while she recovered.

Apparently Gabriel Reyes didn’t think those sort of requests applied to him.

He looked around with a dry expression, then put an arrangement of teacup roses - potted in an actual teacup - on the bedside table. “Nice room. How’s the food?”

Ana snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Thought you’d say that.” Gabriel grinned, and produced a waxed paper bag. “Sweet potato and roasted corn tamales. _Mi abuela’s_ recipe. They’ll fix you up.”

Ana took the bag, savoring the warmth she could feel through the paper. “The doctor isn’t going to be happy about you giving this to me.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Gabriel scoffed. “Really.”

He stood at the window as Ana unwrapped and devoured a tamale, waiting until she was most of the way through a second one before he dragged a chair over and sat down at the foot of her bed, linking his hands and letting them rest casually between his knees.

“So. Tell me what happened.”

* * *

For Angela, it had started when Antoine came into her lab with a bland little smile that immediately put her on edge.

“Good morning, doctor. How are you today?”

Angela removed her glasses and looked up from her desk. “Good morning - I’m well, thank you.”

“Our window of opportunity has opened.” Antoine came to her desk and pulled a data drive from one of the pockets of his suit jacket. “Please take a look at this.”

Angela slotted in the drive and frowned as she pulled up images of what appeared to be an abandoned office park. “I’m not sure I understand what this is.”

“These images were taken in Krakow,” Antoine explained. “A ‘research park’ that was supposed to have been abandoned during the Crisis and never reclaimed. We’ve been observing it since someone began supplying power and water to the complex again.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “A covert research facility of some kind?”

He nodded. “We’ve determined the facility was set up by Strike Commander Morrison - using the funding devoted to the Slipstream project after he formally shut it down.”

Angela could feel her blood start to boil. _Jack, you bastard._ “Do you have any information on the staff? Was Winston transferred there?” _Could they have restarted teleportation experiments?_

Antoine shook his head. “Our sources have not been able to identify many of the staff there, but we know that Winston is not among them - he is still working from Gibraltar, and has not been allowed to resume his previous work.”

Angela frowned. “Then what exactly does Jack have them doing?”

“We’re not sure - but we’ve learned that whatever they are working on is nearly complete. Our plan is to send several teams in to secure the facility and find out.” He smiled. “They’ll be the bait.”

“Bait?” Angela tilted her head slightly. “Bait for what?”

“We believe that the Strike-Commander will respond to threats to this facility personally. What better way to find out what they’re up to?” Antoine’s eyes glittered like a shark following a trail of blood. “I thought that given the situation, this might be an excellent opportunity for Tracer and Widowmaker to show off their talents.”

Angela nodded. “This is the mission you’ve been planning for them, then?”

“Yes.” Antoine sat back in the chair a bit, his posture relaxing. “Ever since we learned about this facility we’ve been keeping an eye on it, and now it is time to strike.”

“And I am to remain here?”

“I am perfectly comfortable with your ability to work with them, Doctor - and to engage your former comrades - but we do want to ensure that Tracer, in particular, can operate in the field without your guidance.”

Angela tensed. “I’m not sure I like what you are implying.”

Antoine smiled innocently at her, his voice never rising from that pleasant conversational tone he always seemed to use. “Simply that Lieutenant Oxton is not terribly experienced in ground operations - and to ensure that her loyalty is in the right place. This will be a good opportunity to determine just how well she’s adapting to her new situation...in several respects.”

Angela’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Will I be allowed to monitor the progress of the operation?”

Antoine nodded to her before he stood to leave, brushing down the front of his suit jacket. “That can be arranged. In the meantime, please brief them and make sure they’re both prepared for the operation. We plan to move in the next 24 hours.”

* * *

Ana grunted as she moved through the wreckage of an apartment building that had once bordered the offices where Jack had apparently been setting up secret labs.

_And we’ll be talking about that later, Jack. What on earth were you trying to accomplish in this hellhole?_

She’d found a bedroom with a good vantage point and dragged the mattress over to where she could make it into a comfortable rest, then shimmied her way to the window, carefully pulling away one of the cracked boards before unslinging her Kinamura and scanning the area.

“Horus here,” she murmured into her radio, “in position.”

“Roger,” Jack replied, “tactical team is preparing to breach.”

“Any word on opposition?”

“Negative,” Jack sighed with a hint of frustration, “Intel wasn’t able to get much, but we know Talon has at least two squads worth of troops in place, and there should be seven hostages.”

 _If they’re all alive._ She wished Gabriel had been able to give them more to go on, but with Genji still recovering and McCree having vanished, Blackwatch had problems of its own.

Ana swept her cybernetic gaze over the battlefield, zooming and panning to check for targets. “I have nothing yet - but I’ll be ready.” She pulled out the small controller from her coat. “Activating drones.”

“Acknowledged.”

A flight of UAVs launched from the Orca that had brought them into the OZ, several taking up a wide circling patrol over the park, while a pair flew down to shadow Jack and her squad, projecting their camera views back to her. She used cybernetic commands to help her observe the area, then directed her attention to the drone shadowing Jack, watching as he held up a hand with three upraised fingers.

He pointed to the door leading into the lab complex, where a shaped charge had been placed over the lock, then curled one finger down.

Another.

The last finger curled into his fist, and a moment later the charge detonated, sending the door flying into the hallway. “ _Tactical team - TAKE TAKE TAKE!”_

She kept a careful eye on the team as they sliced through a small group of Talon grunts, but movement in one of the other camera feeds grabbed her attention just as Jack kicked in the door that lead to what must have been the main lab, the guards falling after two quick bursts of pulse fire.

As Singh and Kimiko began cutting the hostages free of their bonds, dark shapes began boiling out of several of the other buildings like ants from a nest.

“Heads up,” Ana called as she drew a bead on her first target. “Talon incoming!”

“Roger.” Jack’s voice was clipped as he lead Al Farouk and Mirembe deeper into the lab, sweeping to make sure there would be no surprises from Talon in their rear. “Get us a lane, Ana!”

* * *

Widowmaker normally didn’t mind waiting. After all, waiting was a crucial part of the sniper’s role. Much like her namesake, she found the perfect spot to lay her web, allow an unsuspecting target to walk into her trap, and remove them cleanly.

The issue with this operation was that she had to wait with _Tracer_ , and she had found that her ‘counterpart’ was almost incapable of being _quiet_.

“I wish I had a snack,” Tracer grumbled. “We’ve been stuffed in here for _hours_.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes behind her scope. “That is part of the job - and didn’t Angela provide you with ration bars before we left?”

Tracer shrugged. “Two, yeah. Ate one and wished I hadn’t.” She sighed. “I’m sure it’s healthy an’ all but it tasted like wallpaper paste and shoe leather.”

“How...descriptive.” She’d gotten used to the girl’s ridiculous appetite as their lunches had become more frequent after training, and Angela had insisted she work on eating more regularly. ( _I missed food. I didn’t realize it until I had it again, but I missed food.)_

She put a finger to the temple of the new helmet and visor design Angela had given her for this operation. Not quite as dramatically styled as her old one, but she had to admit it offered better protection. The additional armor she wore over her suit was a similar ‘improvement’ though Widowmaker wasn’t sure she liked the extra weight. _(At least they aren’t staring at my chest while I wear this.)_

She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. She needed to _focus_. Distractions were not acceptable.

“You alright, luv?” Tracer had come to stand next to her, unexpectedly, and was staring at her with concern.

“I am functional.”

Lena’s frown deepened. “Headaches again, Amélie?”

She squeezed the stock of Widow’s Kiss until she could hear the composite creak under her fingers. “That is _not_ my name.” _(That’s a lie.)_

Lena seemed like she was about to argue for a moment, then backed off. “Sorry, Widow.” She took a step back. “I’ve got some paracetamol tablets in my kit. Want a pair?”

_(Yes.)_

Widowmaker took another slow breath, then shook her head when she saw the bait squad swarm into the office park’s courtyard. “ _Non._ It’s time.”

Tracer grinned and clapped her lightly on the cap of one armored shoulder. “Right, then. I’ll check back after job’s done, then.”

She watched one of the bait team falling - shot from the side by a sniper. “There is another sniper. I’m going to work on tracking them.”

“Could be Captain Amari,” Tracer mused as she drew her pistols. “Wotch’er, yeah? If it’s her, she’s the best in the world.”

Widowmaker couldn’t help but smirk as she scanned the nearby buildings. “She may be the best in _Overwatch_...but they have not met _me._ ”

Tracer snorted. “Just keep them off my back. No Angie to fix us up...”

Widowmaker didn’t bother with a glare. “I know my job.”

Tracer nodded as her face drew into a more serious expression, waiting for the Overwatch team to break cover before she charged into the fray. “Ready here.”

“There!” Widowmaker saw the distinctive blue uniforms burst out a door, several men and women in lab coats huddling between them. “Overwatch has taken the bait. We are clear to engage.”

Tracer crouched on the ledge, preparing to jump. “Take the trailing one if you can, I’ll sweep in from there and you can concentrate on the sniper.”

She nodded, lining up her shot, then paused. “Lena.”

Tracer froze. “Yeah?”

“ _Try_ to be careful.”

Tracer giggled. “Where’s the fun in _that?”_

* * *

One. Two. Three. Four.

Ana took another Talon grunt down with a clean headshot, mentally updating her tally to five. Five more souls on her conscience. Five less threats to her family.

“All units,” her radio crackled in her ear, “this is Morrison. We have the hostages, and we’re moving out. Ana, are you ready?”

She manipulated the remote for the drones, sending them to give her a bird’s eye view of the escape route. “Roger that. I’m looking out for you.”

She watched as the tactical team made their way out, the hostages they’d rescued sandwiched between them, and couldn’t help but smile as she noticed Singh tossing a salute in her general direction.

“Take care of us, mama bear…”

Another group of Talon grunts had broken cover and was trying to advance towards Morrison’s flank. “I’m clearing a lane.”

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. The magazine falling to the floor before she slapped in a fresh one.

She made each one clean, and quick. No lingering wounds, no gut shots, nothing cruel. They deserved that much, at least.

Jack’s voice had an undercurrent of urgency. “What these scientists know about the project can’t fall into Talon’s hands. We need to go!”

Ana checked her drone cameras. “Looks like you’re all clear. Take the alley to the right and cut through that warehouse.”

They’d just began to move when it all went to hell.

Bayless gave shocked sort of grunt, then slumped to the ground, blood pooling on the ground as the scientists began to scream.

“AGENT DOWN! AGENT DOWN!”

She scanned frantically, scanning for a target as Jack’s voice boomed furiously in her ear. “Where’s the shooter? Ana, _REPORT!_ ”

“Looking!”

There was a flash of red, and ice ran through her veins as a blurry shape dashed through the courtyard. She had the impression of a small, lithe female form dashing towards the squad, and Al-Farouk collapsed with a hand on his side.

She’d been about to draw a bead on the new attacker when she saw the glint of light off another scope, and a bullet shattered the board just above her beret. “I’ve been engaged! Changing position!”

She dropped through a hole in the blasted out floor and rolled as she hit the ground, pulling herself into position. She could hear the chatter of rifle fire and a faster, almost zipping sort of sound from the second shooter, whoever she was. “Everyone good?”

Jack growled with frustration as she heard more sounds of pain come over the air. “No! Ana, can you get a handle on this shooter?”

“There’s two…” She caught a blur of movement - she was almost certain she had the sniper, at least.

Jack grunted. “McCree said a sniper was supporting Talon in London. Someone who could move between the rooftops faster than he could follow. Could be him.”

She saw the sniper fly through a window on some kind of grappling line. “Now I have you…” She smiled grimly. “Morrison - the pink building. Third floor corner. Break when you see impact - I’ll keep the other one off you.”

She set the drones on a collision course, and armed the charges nestled inside of them. Moments later they slammed into the sniper’s nest, and the detonations blasted the cladding and glass away. If the sniper wasn’t dead, it would at least keep him quite occupied for the next few minutes as Jack and the others broke into a run for the waiting transport.

“Everyone move! Ana, you too!”

“NO!” She saw the flash of red again and fired a shot that she’d swear had connected, but the streaks of light seemed to disappear just after the bullet struck, reappearing a moment later and firing shots into the retreating squad as they ran for the Orca.

“Evac is here! Wheels up in two - now beat feet! **Disengage** , Ana, that’s an ord-”

She clicked off the comm. “They aren’t getting away that easily.” _Sorry, Jack._

She’d failed her family. She’d lost members of her team.

She wasn’t leaving until Talon had paid for that. If she could not protect them, she would at least avenge them.

She burst out of the window, leaping to the next rooftop over, and fired a shot on the run at the red blur to keep her away, then ducked, swearing, as the sniper took out the supports for the billboard behind her, nearly crushing her beneath it.

_But you just told me where you are…_

Ana pressed herself against the corner of the building and put her Kinamura to her shoulder. _I don’t have a shot if they keep moving…_ Then, to her surprise, the sniper stopped, giving her a good look at the odd looking helmet they wore as they raised their rifle.

_Too late._

Her rifle kicked against her shoulder and a moment later the carefully aimed shot caromed off the narrow corridor before slamming into the side of the sniper’s forehead, shattering the side of her helmet, dropping her to the ground.

_Got you…_

She zoomed in to confirm the kill, but to her shock the sniper was still alive. The bulbous helmet had been ruined, and Ana watched pieces of the shattered visor fall to the ground as she turned herself over, revealing their -  _her_ \- face.

_No._

_No, that’s not possible! Amélie Lacroix?! Talon kidnapped her after her husband’s murder. She was supposed to be...we thought she was…_

_But that means..._ **she** _killed Gérard._

Before she could consider anything else there was a loud cry of “ _NO!”_ before the red blur appeared next to Lacroix, solidifying into a black and red clad woman with a brush of dark hair.

_Oxton?! But she’s dead! She stopped appearing. We all thought she’d disappeared forever._

_They’re both supposed to be dead…_

**_Angela._ **

_Angela Ziegler, what have you done?!_

Oxton had turned Lacroix over and said something to her, then stared back as if she could make eye contact through her scope.

Before she could even think about running, Oxton had disappeared again, and a heartbeat later an armored boot was slamming into her midriff, knocking her to the ground and sending her rifle flying.

“Oxton,” she gasped as the black and red clad woman stood over her, her eyes burning with fury beneath her goggles. “Lena - _Tracer_ \-  don’t...don’t do this. I don’t know what Angela told you, or Talon, but _please_. You’re one of us! We can _help_ you!”

Lena stared down at her, and for a moment her eyes softened. “Sorry, Cap. But we both know that’s a lie.”

Ana thought of Jack’s decision to stop the attempts to retrieve her, and her stomach sank. No wonder Lena didn’t believe a word of it. “Please, Lena. You’re still Overwatch!”

Oxton’s eyes went hard again, and she raised one of her pistols. “ _Not anymore_.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger, and Ana’s chest burned and ached as pulse rounds slammed through her breastplate and tore through the flesh beneath, her body jerking and twisting with the impacts.

She thought of Fareeha as the world began to go grey at the edges.

She didn’t feel Oxton’s fingers slipping her comm off of her ear.

She barely heard the click as Oxton reactivated it. “Agent down, agent down at this position! Need medevac stat!”

Darkness swallowed her up as the earpiece was dropped to the floor.

* * *

Gabriel had listened patiently to Ana’s description of the botched rescue op: her anguish at watching her team get torn apart; her shock at realizing the identity of the sniper who had nearly out-dueled her; the encounter with Oxton.

When she’d finished, he’d reached out to put a hand on her own, scooting a bit closer. “What happened to your people wasn’t your fault, Ana. A lot of us made mistakes.”

Ana laughed bitterly. “I hesitated, Gabriel. And I got six rounds in my chest for the trouble.”

“You’re alive,” Reyes insisted softly, “and even if it doesn’t always feel that way, it beats the hell out of the alternative.”

Ana sighed, taking his hand and squeezing it back. “I suppose you’re right.” She looked up at him. “How is Jack?”

Gabriel’s face darkened. “Taking things out on everyone else. As usual.”

Ana frowned. “He still feels responsible for Angela’s defection?”

“Not that he’ll admit it,” Gabriel replied, “but I think so. I kept telling him he was pushing her too far...Oxton was the last straw.”

“For all we know,” Ana said thoughtfully, “she could have been the one to turn Amélie Lacroix.” _Could she have arranged the entire thing?_

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t think so - the timing isn’t quite right - but there’s some evidence she’s been pushing her research forward on biotic healing and some other nanotech applications, and that Lacroix and Oxton are her guinea pigs.”

“Disgusting.” Ana shook her head. “So much for the pacifist.”

Gabriel nodded. “We’re behind the eight ball, especially since she destroyed all of our copies of her work.” He smiled. “Or so she thought.”

Ana blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel’s mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “Well, that was the other reason I wanted to stop by. From what I heard, you’re supposed to be on light duty for the next six months, right?”

“So they claim,” Ana grumbled. She wasn’t about to let them hold her down that long if she had anything to say about it.

Gabriel reached down to the floor, and brought up a heavy looking rifle case. “I thought maybe I could give you something a little more interesting to do than paperwork while you’re laid up.”

She snapped over the catches, and her eyes widened as she got a good look at the contents of the case.

“ _Gabriel_. Is this…?”

“Yup.” Gabriel’s eyes were flashing like polished onyx as she ran her hands over the biotic rifle prototype - and the boxes of modified nanobiotic ammunition that went with it. “And she doesn’t know we have it.”

She snapped the lid closed. “What do you want me to do?”

Gabriel chuckled. “Figure out how to make more nanosurgeons without her, for one. You’ll need to be able to manufacture your own ammo. Get a handle on what all of this stuff can do - you know Ziegler was pretty cagey about just how powerful her tech could be - and once you’ve done all that?” Reyes stood, and looked back out the window. “Then you tell us how we can use her own toys to _take her apart_.”


	10. Points of Failure

Angela was seething as she peeled off the bloodied scrub top she’d been wearing and tossed it into the trash.

Her heart had been in her throat when Lena had announced that they were returning with wounded. She’d helped to triage the surviving rank and file casualties, but her greatest fear - and the greatest need - had been Amélie, who had fallen unconscious after they’d loaded her on the transport.

_Epidural hematoma,_ her nanosurgeons had reported as she’d gently cradled Amélie’s head in her hands. _Meningeal artery tear. Fractured skull. Concussion. Foreign matter (shrapnel) in epicranial, occipito frontalis, and temporalis muscles. Lacerations. Foreign matter in cornea. Critical blood loss. Surgical intervention required._

After running whole blood and carefully opening a small patch of Amélie’s skull, she began the delicate work of using her nanosurgeons to remove the fragments and repair the torn artery before Amélie bled out, then slowly healing the tissues and undoing the damage she'd caused to reach the wounds.

She’d been able to treat the remaining laundry list of injuries, but pulling all of the fragments from Ana’s bullet and the remains of Amélie’s helmet out of her head had taken the bulk of Angela’s time and attention.

Between the operation and the others she’d treated, Angela had been utterly exhausted...and then Lena had told her _how_ Amélie had been shot.

She’d left Lena to stay with the still unconscious Amélie, asking for Lena to notify her when she woke up, then stalked to her lab to get cleaned up, grabbing the first security trooper she’d come across by the shirt and ordering him to find Antoine and _request_ he meet her in the lab immediately.

She’d just finished pulling on a clean shirt when she heard her lab door open.

“Doctor,” Antoine looked nearly as angry as she did. “In the future, if you wish to see me, you may come to my office or send a message to me electronically. I am not to be _summoned_.”

Angela didn’t give him the satisfaction of appearing cowed. “We need to discuss Widowmaker’s programming - and what occurred on the mission today.”

Antoine’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Widowmaker’s programming is -”

“ _Flawed_ , to say the least! The idea of a fearless soldier ignores the fact that _fear is a survival response_. Hence why your ‘perfect’ sniper _stood_ _still_ and let an exceptionally trained opponent _shoot her in the head_ while she attempted to line up a better shot.” Angela shook with anger. “If the bullet had hit Widowmaker’s visor two milimeters to the right, she would be a _vegetable_ right now.”

Antoine crossed his arms over his chest. “So you would suggest…?”

Angela scoffed. “I _suggest_ nothing. I am _informing_ you that I will be reworking her programming to address this problem.”

“Doctor,” Antoine scowled, “I fear you have overestimated your importance.”

“Am I?” Angela sat down at her desk, doing her best to swallow her rage. “You asked me to improve Widowmaker. I have. You asked me to ensure Tracer would be an effective weapon. I have. You wanted us to stop Null Sector - _we did._ You wanted to see how Tracer and Widowmaker would perform against Overwatch, and so far I would call the score rather slanted in their favor given that they decimated one of Overwatch’s best tactical squads and incapacitated their second in command. You have received _invaluable_ research and classified Overwatch files thanks to me, and I have done everything that Talon has asked of me since I arrived - and I have continued to pursue and improve several significant breakthroughs. There is _no one else in the world_ who can do what I can do, Antoine, and I am taking the responsibilities you have given me seriously. Allow me to continue to do so.”

Antoine’s frown slowly faded as she spoke, his eyes narrowing in thought. “If you were to follow this course...some of my colleagues would likely wish to see you take a more...direct hand in Tracer and Widowmaker’s operations. Since you insist on...developing...them further, I think it is only reasonable to expect you to be responsible for them in the field as well.”

Angela smiled coldly. “You already complimented me on my decisions in the field once before. If it gives me the free hand I need to make the most of their potential, I am happy to take on that role.”

_And I will be damned if I let you idiots put them at needless risk again._

* * *

Lena had returned all of her weapons and the accelerator to her locker while Widowmaker had been in surgery, but hadn’t bothered getting back into civvies. She’d undone her jacket as she found her way back to the infirmary, and let it hang off her shoulders as she settled into a chair at Amélie’s bedside.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting when a steaming disposable paper cup appeared in front of her face.

“No change?”

Lena sighed and shook her head as she took the cup of tea. “Not yet.” Leaning back, she gave Angela a smile. “Thanks.”

Angela pulled up another chair and gently took Amélie’s hand, running her thumb in a lazy circle. “None of her implants were damaged and the surgical repairs were successful. It should be a straightforward recovery, but the brain is a very...delicate...organ.”

“She’ll be fine.” Lena took a sip of her tea before setting the cup on the counter and putting her hand over Angela’s wrist. “You know this wasn’t your fault, luv.”

Angela’s eyes focused on Amélie’s sleeping face. “I keep wondering if it might have been different, if I had been there.”

“You had orders to stay here,” Lena reminded her, “and _you_ didn’t pull that trigger - Captain Amari did.”

Anglea’s eyes turned pensive. “That’s true...on both counts.” She sat back and picked up her coffee. “I had a...discussion about those orders with Antoine.”

Lena smiled grimly. “I can imagine how that went.”

Angela gave a little shrug. “I’ll be coming with you from now on - which means I need to get back to work on my new suit.”

Lena snorted. “Just as long as you avoid the fuschia and purple.”

That got a laugh out of Angela, and Lena felt easier as her lover’s shoulders relaxed. “No, I have some plans for the design already. I’m taking some of the ideas from my old suit and adjusting them to fit a somewhat more...active role.”

Lena had been about to tease her a bit more when there came a soft groan from the bed.

Angela was up on her feet in an instant, reaching out to place a hand on Amélie’s shoulder. “Widowmaker? Can you hear me?”

Widowmaker’s eyes fluttered before she slowly opened them, a grimace of pain on her face. _“J'ai mal au crâne."_

Angela rolled her eyes as she gently stroked over Widowmaker’s forehead, her fingertips beginning to glow. “That will happen when you get shot in the head.”

Widowmaker glared for a moment, but her expression eased as Angela did something to ease the headache. “The mission…?”  
  
Lena smiled. “We won, basically. Pulled a data drive off one of the boffins and I took out Amari.”

Widowmaker let her head fall back and relax. “Good.”

“You had some internal injuries,” Angela explained, “but I was able to treat them successfully.”

Lena looked around, then gave Angela a speculative look. “Think we could spring her out of here, then? Give her a chance to rest and relax at the apartment, maybe eat some more actual food?”

“I think that could be arranged…” Angela looked over to Widowmaker, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re willing?”

Widowmaker considered that. “Where would I sleep?”

“Oh, there’s a spare bedroom.” Lena assured her. “I hardly ever use it, so it’s just been going to waste.”

Widowmaker’s eyebrows rose with surprise.“You two are...involved?”

Angela’s face flushed as she coughed. “Is that a problem?”

Widowmaker frowned. “It could be a vulnerability...but it has not affected your performance.”

Lena grinned. “Well, long as you’re not jealous.”

That got a snort from Widowmaker as she looked away.  “Do not flatter yourself.”

Lena laughed as she stood. “Good to see you’re back to normal, luv.”

* * *

Once Widowmaker had dressed in casual clothes and Lena had finished changing out of her uniform, they’d returned to the apartment, Widowmaker examining the modest decor and furnishings before she settled on the couch.

“This seems...pleasant.” A confused look washed over Widowmaker’s face. “You do not have a pet?”

Angela sat down next to her. “Aside from Lena?”

Lena’s indignant squeak carried out to them from the kitchen. “I _heard_ that!”

Angela giggled, and Widowmaker seemed like she wanted to smile, but something was still bothering her.

“That...no.” Widowmaker put a hand to her head. “You...had fish. I knew you. You had a fish tank. I had a cat…”

Angela sat up straight, and gently put her hand on Widowmaker’s shoulder. “I did. You’re remembering.”

Widowmaker’s voice dripped with anguish as her fingers dug into her hair. “I _know_ you…”

“Yes,” Angela murmured softly. “We’ve known each other for several years.” She’d originally planned to let Amélie wake up later, after Widowmaker had gone back to sleep, but it seemed like the breakdowns in Widowmaker’s programming had moved the timing up on that plan. Better to do it now than risk more harm.

Widowmaker’s eyes closed, her face screwing up as she tried to fight off the headache. “ _It hurts_ …”

“Shh.” Angela reached out to gently stroke her head, trying to ease Widowmaker as much as she could. “I can help. Just try to relax.”

Angela could hear Lena coming out of the kitchen, but thankfully she was staying quiet. This was potentially dangerous enough. “I have you now. We’ll make it better, I promise.”

Widowmaker leaned against her, and Angela reached out to interface with her implants. As she brought them offline and set them to maintain and regulate Amélie’s cybernetics and respiratory functions only, Widowmaker made a gasping, choking sound, then slumped with relief as the pain eased.

Lena brought the plate of cheese, meat, and crackers she’d been preparing in, setting it on the coffee table before she sat down. “What happened?”

“She was pushing back against the programming again - I had to shut it down.” If her apartment was bugged, the game was about to be up, but she’d really had no choice.

Lena gave her a sympathetic look. “She had a pretty bad headache just before the mission started. I accidentally called her the wrong name, and it seemed like it made things worse.”

Angela considered that with a frown, then looked over to Amélie, who had opened her eyes again. “Amélie? Can you hear me?”

Amélie nodded weakly. “I can hear you.”

Angela gently took her hand and squeezed lightly. _Elevated blood pressure and heart rate, both beginning to fall towards normal._ “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize that keeping the programming active so long after waking you up would start to cause you so much harm.”

“Ana _shot_ me…” Amélie shivered. “She was going to kill me. I thought she was my friend. I thought she was Gérard’s friend.”

Lena shook her head. “I don’t think she knew it was you. She was shocked when she recognized me, honestly.”

Amélie sighed. “I don’t know if that helps...but thank you for telling me.” She slowly sat up, rubbing at the back of her neck. “London was different. We were _saving_ people.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was easier.” She reached up to undo her ponytail and shook out her hair before she let herself relax back into the couch.

“You should eat,” Angela suggested, “and try to rest. We can talk about what happened, and how we can go from there.”

Lena had already piled cheese, meat, and a dollop of preserves onto a cracker. “Just let us take care of you tonight, Amélie. Please? You’ve been through enough.”

Amélie smiled shyly at both of them. “Does that mean I can finally have a glass of wine?”

Angela chuckled as she stood up. “I think that sounds like an _excellent_ plan.”

A few hours later, Angela felt they’d done their best to help Amélie feel comfortable - no discussion of the mission or of Widowmaker, no mentions of Talon. They polished off a bottle of wine and had a late dinner before Amélie had decided to make use of the spare bedroom, and Angela had practically dragged Lena back to her bed.

“The moment they told us they had casualties on board,” Angela confessed, “I was terrified for you - for _both_ of you.”

“I’m here,” Lena reassured her softly before kissing her. “I’m here, and I’m OK.”

“I know,” Angela murmured as she drew Lena closer, “I know, but…” She shook her head. “I’ve lost so many people I love, _schäri._ I keep thinking about how close it was - if Ana’s shot had been a little better, if you hadn’t kept Amélie safe.” She shivered despite the warmth of Lena’s skin against hers. “I should have been there.”

Lena’s fingers glided through her hair. “You said that before - and it wasn’t your fault then, and it wasn’t your fault now.” Her fingers traveled lower, and Angela couldn’t stop herself from groaning as Lena massaged her neck and shoulders. “All that matters is that you _were_ there when it mattered, and we’re OK now, yeah?”

Angela nodded, relaxing under Lena’s touch. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

She felt Lena’s lips turning up in a smile as they kissed again. “Good.” Her fingers traveled lower. “Now, Doctor, I think it’s high time I took care of _you_ …”

* * *

When she was Widowmaker, so much of Amélie’s life was a waking dream - or a nightmare. But if she had any dreams after falling asleep last night, she was relieved to find she could not recall them when she woke.

She’d found the bathroom and taken a shower, then realized the only clothes she had were the ones she’d worn to the apartment. Giving a soft ‘tch’ of annoyance for not thinking ahead, she wrapped one of the towels she’d found around herself, then walked through the apartment until she found the laundry machines.

Once she’d started the wash she found herself wandering back to the kitchen, only to find Lena rummaging in the refrigerator, wearing a loose dress shirt that draped over a pair of briefs.

Blinking in surprise as she felt a blush rising on her face, Amélie coughed as she looked over at the stove instead. “Ah...good morning?”

“Wha?” Lena straightened up and turned around with several items tucked against her chest, and a matching blush rose on her own cheeks as her eyes swept over the towel. “Oh! Morning, Amélie! Feel like some breakfast? Want some tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee, thank you - and breakfast would be very nice.”

Lena nodded as she started to set the food she’d taken out onto the counter. “OK - I’ll get a few things going. D’you like eggs in a nest?”

Amélie frowned. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Really? God, that’s horrible.” Lena gestured to a loaf of bread. “Y’take some bread, cut a little round out of it, put some butter in the pan, and crack an egg into the round. Let it cook, then flip things over until it’s golden brown on both sides, and breakfast is served!”

“That...sounds good,” Amélie admitted. “If there is enough for me after you make yourself and Angela breakfast.”

Lena grinned. “Plenty to go round, don’t you worry. Here - let me get the pan heating up and I’ll get the coffee pot going. Angie practically runs on the stuff.”

Amélie snorted as she took a seat at the counter. “That, at least, has not changed.”

Lena thumbed the button to start the coffee grinder, then busied herself with setting up the machine and starting the brew before she spoke again. “So...you and Angie knew each other pretty well, then?”

“She was friendly with Gér...with my husband,” Amélie explained, her voice tightening as she struggled to say his name aloud. “I got to know Angela while he spent time at headquarters, early on, and we kept up our friendship by phone and emails when I returned to France.”

“Oh,” Lena said softly. “Sorry to dig up old hurts.” She looked down at the pan, melting butter before she tossed in a few slices of bread and cracked the eggs into the pan. “I didn’t really know him that well, but he seemed like a good man. I’m sorry for…” Lena paused, obviously struggling how to phrase what she was trying to say. “Well. Everything.”

Amélie nodded. “Thank you, Lena. I…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I know he would want me to find a way to keep going. To be happy.” She looked around the apartment, then down at her hands. “I am grateful to Angela for everything she has done for me, but I wonder what he might have thought of all this.”

Lena went quiet while she flipped the bread over. “I think he’d be grateful you’ve gotten a chance to take your life back. As to Talon…” She frowned thoughtfully. “It’s done a lot of harm, no doubt. But so has Overwatch, as it turns out. I think what _we_ have to do is find ways to make it do some good. It’s a war...but we can make sure we’re fighting the _right_ people, for the right reasons.”

“So what are _your_ reasons, Lena?”

Lena gave a guilty little smile as she started to pull out plates and mugs. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want some payback for what happened to me - for what Morrison did to me. I’m human. But Antoine said that Talon was supposed to be protecting humanity. Defending people.” She began to put a plate together. “I believe in that. I really do.” She chuckled. “My definition of ‘people’ may be a bit wider than some, I admit, but...I think Angela’s right. We find ways to influence where we can. Give it a nudge at the right times. Past that, we keep ourselves safe and we work to try to accomplish what _we_ want.”

Amélie accepted a mug of coffee and took a sip as she considered that. “I think that sounds like something I could believe in...but do you truly think it is possible, Lena?”

Lena passed over a plate of breakfast and then took up her own fork. “I have to. Otherwise, well. What’s the bloody point?”

“It’s still quite a task,” Amélie mused before taking a bite of toast, rich from the egg yolk that had soaked into the bread. It _was_ good, she had to admit.

Lena smiled. “You ever do much physics in school?”

Amélie shrugged. “Basic classes. I concentrated on dancing more than anything else.”

“Well, there’s a line I always liked: ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I will move the world.’” Lena munched on a piece of her own bread. “‘S Archimedes. So - we’ve got ourselves a place to stand.” She grinned, and Amélie couldn’t help but smile back. “Now we just find ourselves a lever.”


	11. Parallel Development

Angela woke slowly, the physical demands of conducting such a long, delicate surgery and the emotional stress of the previous day taking a toll even after Lena’s tender care and attentions.

She could feel a lingering ache in her legs as she sat up and slipped into the bathroom, splashing some water on her face before she tended to her body’s demands.

After looking at herself in the mirror for a moment, she decided to leave her hair down for the moment, though she did take the time brush out a few tangles in an attempt to be vaguely presentable.  

She had just pulled on a pair of black scrub pants and a loose grey cotton top when the smells of brewing coffee and toasting bread caught her attention, and she followed them into the kitchen to find Lena and Amélie chatting as they ate, a third plate and a steaming mug waiting for her on the counter.

“ _Hoi zäme,_ ” she mumbled before picking up the mug and raising it to her lips.

“ _Salü,"_ Amélie replied in slightly accented German, amusement in her voice as she smoothly switched languages for Lena’s benefit. “I see you are still quite the morning person.”

Lena groaned. “Oh, not this _too._ I barely remember any French from school, and now the _both_ of you speak German?”

Amélie shrugged. “Annecy is not so far from Geneva.”

Lena just rolled her eyes, but as the caffeine began to push Angela towards complete wakefulness, she noticed the way Lena’s shoulders fell for a moment as she looked at the two of them, then seemed to straighten herself up and go back to eating with a little shake of her head

Frowning into her coffee, Angela made a mental note to ask what _that_ had been about, then blinked as she suddenly became aware of both of her companion’s relative states of undress, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. “Amé, where are your clothes?!”

“In the wash.” Amélie looked to the clock on the kitchen wall, then reached over the counter so she could put her plate and silverware in the sink. “And soon to be in the dryer.” Standing, she sketched a little wave to both of them before she walked back towards the apartment’s small laundry room.

Angela waited for her to disappear around the corner before she spoke, using the time to take a few bites of her eggs. “This is wonderful, Lena. Thank you for breakfast.”

Lena gave her a weak smile as she started to work on cleaning up. “Least I could do.”

She let Lena take care of the pan, then slid off the stool and walked around the counter so she could put a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “Are you alright, _schätz?”_

Lena seemed like she was about to shrug it off with another smile and a joke for a moment, but then a hint of vulnerability crept into her eyes as she let out a little sigh. “I...didn’t know you two were such good friends. Had so much in common.” She looked down at herself, putting a hand against the core of her anchor.  “Sort of makes me wonder why you’d settle.”

“Oh, Lena…” Angela gently tipped Lena’s head upwards so she could lean down to kiss her reassuringly. “We _were_ good friends, before her disappearance, but not like _that._ ” She let that sink in a moment before she tried to explain. “Amélie was - is - a very beautiful woman, and I enjoyed spending time with her, but she was also _married_.”

Lena looked up at her with eyes full of embarrassment and fear. “Sometimes that doesn’t stop things from happening.” There was a touch of pain in her voice, and Angela reached out to lightly stroke her face before doing her best to put a little order into Lena’s chaotic hair.

“Sometimes, that is true...but not in this case. I admit I would need to be blind not to notice her, but Gérard was my colleague - my _friend_ \- and Amé was entirely devoted to him. I never would have tried to hurt them.” Lena nodded to that, and Angela drew her in for a hug, letting her hand rest on the back of Lena’s neck. “You have nothing to be jealous or afraid of...and you should be giving _yourself_ a little more credit, Lena Oxton. You are a brilliant, brave, and resilient woman...not to mention beautiful, charming, and quite a good cook.”

That got a soft laugh from Lena, who finally returned the hug with one of her own. “Guess I can work on that.”

“See that you do, Lt. Oxton,” Angela said with mock primness. “ _Settling_. Pah!” She let Lena go and moved to help clean up by washing her own dishes.

“Yes ma’am,” Lena saluted with equal gravity, then relaxed as she put the cream and bread away. “So...you used to have a fish tank?”

“Mmm?” Angela blinked as she tried to figure out the change in topic, then remembered that part of last night’s conversation. “Oh! Yes, for many years. I like most pets, honestly, but between being chief of surgery and then my duties when I joined Overwatch, my schedule wouldn’t have been kind to a dog or cat. An aquarium is relaxing to watch, and once it’s properly stocked and set up it can almost take care of itself - especially with a feeder set up on a timer.” She gave a little sigh as she finished loading the dishwasher and set it to run. “I had a beautiful saltwater tank in my old apartment, but I obviously couldn’t take it with me.”

Lena’s arms snaked around her from behind. “Aw. Sorry, luv. I didn’t even realize.”

Angela chuckled. “Well, I never thought to mention it...and you’re rather more important to me than a few fish.”

Lena pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Good to know.”

* * *

Once they’d all dressed, Lena made the very reasonable suggestion that Amélie could use the same sort of shopping excursion that she’d enjoyed after her return to the living.

Fortunately, Angela was prepared for that.

“Antoine accepted my suggestion,” she explained as she handed a Amélie a buff colored envelope.

Tearing the envelope open, Amélie drew out a driver’s license and matching passport, examining them with a frown. “Emily Kruis?! What sort of a name is that?”

Lena sighed as she reached for her wallet, pulling out her ‘Elena Hamerton’ ID. “Could be worse.” She grinned over to Angela. “Right, Angelica?”

Angela sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.” Holding her pose until the others laughed, she gestured to the envelope. “I suspect the contents of your new bank account may soften the blow...Emi.”

Amélie gave her a halfhearted glare, but slipped the cards and IDs into her pocket anyway. “We shall see.”

Lena didn’t really consider herself to have much fashion sense, but she found a few things she liked as they went through the shops. Her wardrobe was still about eighty percent t-shirts, jeans, or shorts, but she found a few button down tops that she thought would look good, and grabbed a dark grey hoodie that was thick enough to completely hide the faint glow from her chest.

The real fun, she had to admit, was watching Amélie and Angela picking out different items to try.

“This trip is for _you_ ,” Angela insisted as Amélie held up a top for her. “My wardrobe is perfectly fine, and yours is practically nonexistent!”

“Your wardrobe,” Amélie countered with a roll of her eyes, is _labcoats_.” She looked over to where Lena had been keeping herself out of the way. “Lena. Don’t you think she would look wonderful in this?”

Lena considered the light blue top and imagined it against Angela’s skin before she nodded with a smile. “It’s a pretty color. Bet it would set off your eyes, too.”

Angela frowned, but her eyes had softened as she took the top and put it on the small pile of items she was going to try on. “Ganging up on me is _not fair_ , you know.”

Amélie gave a little hum as she picked up a blouse made from a shimmering grey fabric. “I do not recall anyone saying this would be fair, _Angelica._ ”

The look Angela gave them both in response to that could only be called _scathing_ , but she could only hold the stare for a few seconds before all of them began to laugh.

“I suppose I ought to try these on, then.” Angela looked down at her watch. “It's almost two. Shall we have lunch after this?”

Lena nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds great to me. Maybe we could go back to that place on the waterfront?”

“That sounds lovely,” Angela agreed. “Amélie?”

“I could eat,” Amélie admitted. “Though if I am not careful I may not fit into my suit.”

“Cor, yeah. That'd be a shame,” Lena deadpanned. “No more purple tinsel leggings?”

Amélie gave Lena a glare. “I _like_ purple!”

Lena blinked. “Seriously? I mean, not that you weren't sexy as hell in that thing, but it's a bit…”

Amélie coughed, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Well. Perhaps not the _exact_ same suit.”

Angela gave Lena an amused look. “As it happens I was planning to work on a few things for me, and some of your equipment needs replaced too...but perhaps that is a discussion for back at the apartment.”

Lena looked around with a wince, even though the only person near them was a bored looking shop girl who seemed more interested in pretending to look busy folding sweaters than eavesdropping. “Right, sorry…”

Angela stepped over to kiss her on the cheek. “No harm done.”

By the time they reached the restaurant where Angela had taken her out for dinner the night Lena had left the lab for the first time, her stomach was growling, and Angela was giving her a look of genuine concern.

“As much as I tried to avoid introducing a genuine flaw in the anchor and accelerator, I’m starting to wonder if your appetite after using the accelerator for extended periods is a sign of a real problem.”

Lena shrugged as she sat down at the waterfront table across from Angela, giving Amélie a smile as she settled into the seat next to her. “You said there were no signs of permanent harm, right? Just that I needed to up my caloric intake?”

“Yes,” Angela admitted. “So far, at least.”

Lena grinned. “So, just prescribe Amélie to start cooking more French food for us, and that takes care of that.”

“If you had ever eaten my cooking,” Amélie scoffed, “you would not suggest that.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Shoe leather and wallpaper paste,” she answered dryly, “might be an improvement.”

“Oof.” Lena winced before she realized when she’d made that comparison, and gave Amélie a surprised look. “Wait, you remember that?”

Amélie blushed, waiting for the server who had stopped by their table to fill their water glasses and drop off menus before she spoke again. “It’s...difficult to explain. Have you ever had a dream that seemed to be real? Except…” She shook her head. “I knew what I was doing, and why, but couldn’t change or stop myself. Even when I felt…” As Amélie trailed off, Angela reached out to take her hand, and Lena lightly touched her shoulder.

“It’s OK,” Lena said reassuringly, “I was just surprised is all.”

Amélie gave a nod, and they turned their attention back to the menus until they’d placed their lunch orders, the waiter giving them a look of impressed horror at Lena’s appetizer, salad, entree, and dessert selections.

“That does bring up a point,” Angela mused as she stole a bit of the steak tartare off Lena’s plate. “I told Antoine we’d be making changes, but do you think you will be able to handle your...regular duties, Amélie?”

Amélie pushed a bit of salad around on her plate as she considered that, and Lena could almost see the debate she seemed to be holding with herself. “I believe I can. As I said...I always knew what, and why. Practicing and performing is nothing new to me...only the venue has changed.”

“They’ll expect her to be training pretty hard, anyway,” Lena suggested as she stole a shrimp from the basket sitting in front of Angela. “Maybe we could put any problems down to recovery from her injury?”

“That could work,” Angela agreed. “As much as he wants to posture, I believe Antoine wants results above all else. As long as that remains the case, we’ll have the freedom we need.”

* * *

Ana took a deep breath as she could manage, then walked through the doors of Overwatch HQ for the first time in two weeks.

The basic fatigues she wore, instead of her usual duty uniform and half armor, made her feel frustratingly vulnerable, and the cane she’d been forced to accept as part of her recovery wasn’t helping.

Her breathing still felt too shallow as her lungs healed, her chest ached despite the pain medication, and she was painfully reminded of the fact that she wasn’t twenty any more with every step.

At least she had some useful work to do, even if it was going to be some time before she’d be ready for the field again, but she wasn’t very thrilled about being saddled with an ‘assistant’...or who that assistant was going to be.

She rode the elevator down to the subbasement where a confidential lab had been set up. Restricted access, with only Ana, Gabriel, and the ‘assistant’ aware of exactly what they were up to, though Gabriel had apparently told Jack she’d be helping with some Blackwatch R&D to help keep her busy while she recovered.

She would have liked to have Torbjörn involved, too, but at least for now Gabriel wanted to keep things as compartmentalized as possible for security reasons, and Ana had to admit he had a point. Besides - for all she knew, Torb still believed the ‘research materials’ had been destroyed, too.

The elevator door opened, and she shuffled like an old woman to the lab door, presenting her palm to the recently installed biometric lock.

“Biometric match,” the rudimentary AI on the lock announced. “Amari, A.”

The door opened with a soft hiss, and as Ana stepped inside she saw that her assistant was already inside.

Fareeha turned at the sound of the door, hand coming up in a salute, her face a rigid mask. “Captain. First Lieutenant Amari, reporting for my temporary duty assignment.”

Ana reluctantly saluted her daughter, dressed in an almost identical set of fatigues save for the red Airborne beret she wore instead of the blue infantry beret atop her own head. “At ease, Lieutenant...and I really hope you don’t plan on doing that every time I walk into the room.”

Fareeha relaxed, giving her a hesitant smile. “I knew this might be difficult. I thought a professional approach would be a better way to start.”

Ana considered that as she walked over to take a look at the rifle and three boxes of ammunition. “All right. Well, then - in your professional opinion, what do you think of what we need to do?”

“The rifle is nice,” Fareeha said as she put a hand on the stock, “but the principles it works on are fairly straightforward.” She picked up a box of ammunition. “This, on the other hand...I have enough engineering experience to be able to provide some advice on the actual nanomachines, and suggestions for manufacturing them, but the real trick here is the programming. We need to find a way to pull their instructions - I’m assuming there’s something in the actual projectile that provides that - and use it to help reverse engineer the system.”

“Not a bad plan of attack, Lieutenant.” Ana smiled as she took the box and pulled out one of the shells. “Engineering experience, mmm?”

Fareeha held up her right hand, bending her little finger to show off the stainless steel band she wore. “Took my courses with distance learning, and a few between tours. My mother always felt I should have a ‘real’ job I could fall back on.”

Ana’s face flushed, but she had to accept the dig. “Impressive. Especially while forging such an illustrious career.”

Fareeha shrugged, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. “I had some good examples to look up to. So...shall we get started?”

Ana nodded. “I do want to make sure Torbjörn didn’t include anything in the rifle to help set the nanosurgeons up, but I think you’re right - the programming is the real key.”

It was slow going. Just finding a way to get the equipment interface with the ammunition and the nanomachines inside took most of the day without any of the development notes and research to help them. When they finally took a break for lunch (closer to dinner, really), Fareeha was frustratingly helpful, insisting she sit down while she brought back food for both of them.

Ana scowled at the tray as it was set in front of her. “I’m recovering, Fareeha. I’m not _helpless._ ”

“You’re recovering from multiple _gunshot wounds_ ,” Fareeha countered as she wrapped pasta around her fork, “and you spent most of today on your feet. You could use the break.”

Ana sighed as she picked up her fork and started to attack the salmon filet Fareeha had brought her. “Gabriel told you?”

“No, the Commander called me to let me know you’d been hurt in the line of duty…” Fareeha paused to put down her fork. “Gabriel told me what _actually happened_ , since you wouldn’t let me see you at the hospital.”

Ana winced. “Fareeha…” She saw her daughter’s eyes harden, and sat back to look at the decorated veteran sitting across the table from her. _Twenty seven years old. What happened to my little girl?_

_She grew up...and I pushed her away._

Ana met her eyes. “Part of why I didn’t want you - or anyone - to see me, was because of my shame at how I’d failed my team. How I let Lacroix and Oxton hurt the people I promised to protect. But...when I first woke up, I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to live. If I _wanted_ to live. And if that had been the end...I didn’t want you to have to remember me lying in a bed, covered in tubes and hooked to a respirator.”

Anger flashed in Fareeha’s eyes, but it cooled quickly as she listened, and Ana couldn’t help but feel pride in her. Finally, after Fareeha had considered her words, she finally spoke, her voice low and heartbreakingly soft. “ _Ummi..._ if it had come to that, all I would have wanted was the chance to say goodbye.”

The breath rushed out of her, and Ana had to close her eyes for a long moment before she spoke. “I tried so hard to protect you. To make a better world - a better life for you. But I pushed you away, I hurt you again...and I am sorry.”

Fareeha put her fork down and reached out to take her hand. “It’s not going to fix things. Not overnight. But...it’s a start. And we can work from it.”

Ana squeezed her hand back before she worked to finish the food. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I tried to get a little rest.”

“No,” Fareeha agreed. “I can try a few other things to try to access the operating image if you want to relax for a bit - and I wouldn’t mind hitting the gym later, if you like.”

Ana smiled as she stood. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll call you in a bit.”  
  
“Great.” Fareeha started to collect the dishes as Ana took her cane and headed for the door.

She stopped  herself to turn around just a few feet from their table. “Fareeha?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“...the uniform looks good on you.”


	12. Valkyrja

“How does that feel?”

Amélie carefully began to stretch and bend, testing the range of motion in her new suit. “Better than I expected,” she finally decided after moving from a prone position to a shooting stance. “I was a bit concerned about the freedom of movement, but it is quite good.”

Angela smiled as she looked over Amélie’s new suit and equipment.  She didn’t have Gabriel’s flair for tailoring, she’d admit, but she did know a _few_ things about aesthetics.

The recon visor was an amalgam of the different designs Talon had created for Widowmaker, with a high, crown like forehead piece and sections of additional sensors and lenses which could lock into place over her face when the activated. From there, the visor integrated into a sleek armored shell to protect the sides and back of her head, but the back was designed to allow Amélie to keep her ponytail, though it was tied a bit lower than when she’d had the open backed visor.  

She wore an underglove in a rich (but as she was sure Amélie would point out to Lena, not _reflective_ ) purple that hugged her legs and upper arms, with seams and highlights in the lighter fuschia and blue shades that been part of Widowmaker’s ‘signature’ appearance, but cut with a modest collar and neckline to allow Amélie an easy range of motion.

Her grapple and mine launcher had been integrated into a slightly more streamlined gauntlet in dark grey, the armor plating picked out in a lighter shade that matched the armored boots she wore, and her other hand was covered by a tactical shooting glove.

Armored plates lined with shock absorbent material capped her shoulders, decorated with a Talon insignia on one shoulder and the stylized ‘W’ that Talon had given Widowmaker as a signature on the other, and similar plates protected her back, hips, and knees without becoming restrictive.

“Did you want to take some time on the training course to make sure everything is comfortable?"

Amélie nodded, removing her rifle from the equipment locker and securing it over her shoulder. “I would, yes. Will you be joining me?”

Angela smiled as she looked over to the bench where she’d been working on her second generation Valkyrie suit. “I believe it _is_ about time for a proper field test.”

Once Antoine had agreed that she would take an active hand in Tracer and Widowmaker’s operations, Angela had spent several days finally redesigning the Valkyrie, even as she’d worked to get Widowmaker’s new equipment ready, doing her best to allow for easy movement and a certain style, though the demands of the Caduceus system and the flight dynamics of the Valkyrie’s wings dictated certain aspects of the design.

Angela waited for Amélie to leave for the range, then pulled off her lab coat, locked the door to the lab, and began to undress, leaving her blouse, slacks, and underwear in a pile before opening the locker where she kept the “soft” components of the suit so she could dress.

She wore the same black underglove that she had used for the mission to London, skinning into the tight garment and using it as the foundation for the rest of the suit. Her boots were next, reinforced with two layers of plating. Dark grey armor ran from her ankle to the top of her calf, and a second clamshell of plates in deep red locked into place over her lower leg and rose into an armored cap to protect her knees.

Where her old suit’s design had a mostly decorative set of feathered plates at her hips and a reinforced skirt and tabard over her crotch for lower body protection, Angela now had sloped red armor panels that extended over her hips and protected the sides of her thighs, overlapping a much shorter “skirt” panel of ballistic fabric that matched the grey layers in her boots.

As befitting Talon’s “corporate culture”, she’d made the primary color of the suit a deep glossy black, edged with that same charcoal grey in several areas, including the armored panels that would hug her sides and the primary armatures for the Valkyrie’s wings. The armor that protected her torso and bust came up to red gorget around her neck that linked into armored shoulder panels, and long sleeves of red synthetic armored leather mated to black gloves with reinforced red armor plate over the knuckles and the back of her hand, and the halo and helix design from her old insignia was picked out between the shoulderblades in red against the black plating.

Once she had the armor secured, she undid the band that held her loose ponytail in place, quickly drew her hair back into a fat braided plait rather than her “casual” ponytail to keep it clear and out of her face, and then reached for her headgear. Instead of the medic’s cap she had worn in the field with Overwatch, she had crafted a much more functional abbreviated helmet that would go over her forehead, the black cowl and winged flanges framing her face. A red imaging visor could slip down from where it was concealed beneath the forehead plating to help her locate someone inside a building or trapped beneath debris using the same imaging technology that allowed Widowmaker to identify targets across the battlefield.

The last step she had to prepare herself were the suit’s ‘accessories’ - her new pistol, with a new power cell and some styling cues taken from the rapid fire pulse pistols she’d completed for Lena based on Winston’s designs, and her new Caduceus staff - now styled into a short spear, since Angela no longer had to rely on the staff to store a supply of nanosurgeons in the emitter.

The silver shaft of the weapon linked into her gloves to draw the nanobots from her internal array, and the wickedly pointed tip of the weapon either served to channel them to a patient from a distance, or to release an energy boost that would improve the power of Widowmaker’s rifle or Tracer’s pistols.

As her hand wrapped around the shaft of the spear, Angela issued the mental command to bring the suit to life, and felt the connections link together, shivering as the new suit became part of her for the first time.

_VLKOS 4.1.2.4 (Brynhildr) Startup:_

_Internal nanoarray - 100%_  
  
_V_ _itals monitoring - OK_   
  
Evasive boost - OK

_Reflex integration - OK_

_Caduceus Integration - OK_

_Einherjar Protocol - LOCKED_

**_VALKYRIE ONLINE_ **

Angela walked to the mirror set into the wall, considering the new, harder appearance of her suit. She was no longer there to simply provide aid. She would attempt to protect and heal those in need, of course, but the truth was that she had been a soldier ever since she’d accepted the offer to become part of Overwatch. As a member of Talon, she was simply taking away the pretext she’d allowed herself to hide behind. She was not support personnel, and she’d _never_ been a noncombatant.

She stood at the mirror, staring at her reflection, then flexed her shoulders back, watching as her wings burst into life, now picked out in silver hard light “feathers” with red highlights along the tips instead of the old Overwatch blue,

She nodded to herself, then headed for the door. She shouldn’t keep Amélie waiting.

 _Now I truly am the chooser of the slain_.

* * *

Amélie swung through the air on her grappling hook, and remembered how it felt to fall.

She let herself tumble as she reached the peak of the arc, the grappling hook’s line retracting back into her gauntlet. Her legs bent to absorb the impact of landing, her hands coming up to draw her rifle as she reached her perch. The scope came to her eye and she saw her target moving across a small walkway.

She tried to remember how it had felt to lead shots when she was Widowmaker. To let her hands guide her. The timing…

_(There.)_

Her mouth tightened slightly at the kick of the rifle against her shoulder, but the sight of the simulated dummy’s head exploding in a spray of ballistics gel made a little shiver run up her spine.

Angela might have given back her autonomy, but it seemed Talon’s work would always be a part of her.

_Was I always meant to be a killer?_

_(Yes.)_

Killing was a _thrill_. Even as she mourned Gérard, she remembered the ecstasy she’d felt as she’d plunged the knife into his chest. The wave of pleasure and release at the sight of his breathing going still and his face going slack. The warmth she felt each time she’d pulled the trigger in London and on other operations.

_How much was Talon? How much is me?_

As much as she knew Talon had made Widowmaker from their programming - from her conditioning - they had needed a foundation to build from.

She could do it to protect someone, like the hostages they had saved. She could do it to defend Angela or Lena. But it was still killing, and Talon had made her very, very good at it.

Movement drew her attention to the edge of the training area. A figure in black and red making her way through the entrance to the course, the wings of Angela’s new suit flaring out behind her.

“I’d like to test the flight guidance,” Angela called over the radio. “Could you grapple to the top of the building to your right?”

“Acknowledged,” Amélie replied as she slung her rifle and aimed her grapple. Because that is what Talon would expect Widowmaker to say. Wasn’t it? Trying to act the part of the thing they made, while keeping her secrets, Angela’s secrets, Lena’s secrets...was it any wonder she’d nearly collapsed from a headache in Angela’s apartment?

As she let the grapple pull her across the sky, she felt a tingle as Angela locked onto her with her staff, a warmth that slowly spread across her. The sound of Angela’s wings propelling her into the air followed a heartbeat later, and in seconds she was standing atop the building with Angela coming in behind her for a graceful landing.

Despite herself, Amélie couldn’t help a little smile.  “A success, it seems.” Angela still looked like an angel, but more of an avenging type than a guardian. Breathtaking, and a bit frightening.

The fearsome aspect softened slightly when Angela smiled, her eyes shining. “I would agree. Now - here, let me try something else.” She gestured towards the far end of the range with her spear. “Pick a target, please?”

Amélie raised her rifle, but this time she activated her recon visor rather than simply using the scope. As the lenses locked into place, targets bloomed to life in vivid reds and yellows against the grey of the range, and it took her no time to settle on one, moving in an erratic course to try to evade sniper fire.

_(A challenge at last.)_

Even in seemingly random movement, there would be a pattern, and as Amélie focused she found it, the barrel of Widow’s Kiss moving just ever so slightly as she tracked and lead her shot.

There was a rush of something cool up her back, and a strange humming sound. Different from the healing beam Angela had used before. Something that made her feel...stronger.

_(Oh là là…)_

She stilled her breathing, and the world seemed to fall away. Just her, and the target. Even Angela’s presence faded into the background as she waited for that perfect moment.

Amélie pulled the trigger, and target’s head didn’t simply splatter, it _atomized_.

Her visor snapped open and she turned to stare wide eyed at Angela, who stood there smirking triumphantly with a beam of brilliant blue energy streaming from the end of her spear connecting their bodies.

“Well,” Angela chuckled. “I think the boost function can be noted as effective!”

“Yes,” Amélie agreed, her voice almost as shaky as her knees. “I would have to agree!”

_(Je t’adore…!)_

* * *

“That’s odd…”

Ana looked up from where she’d been studying the results of their prototype nanosurgeon farm. “Oh? What is it, Fareeha?”

Fareeha gestured to the displays for her workstation. “I _think_ I was finally able to extract a good runtime image, but there’s a _huge_ segment of code that’s been disabled. Functions that appear to be locked out.”

Ana frowned. “Safety protocols that were disabled to allow the nanosurgeons to be weaponized?”

Fareeha shook her head. “No. I found those already. This is something different. I think I see a few different things here…”

Ana stood and crossed the floor. “Let’s have a look, then.”

Fareeha frowned up at her. “Cane.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “I can cross the room, I promise.”

“That’s not what you were saying after your physical therapy yesterday.”

“ _Yesterday_ ,” Ana countered as she took a seat, “I had a professional sadist making me run laps and doing squats until my legs gave out - while _you_ cheered her on.”

“I’m telling Patience you called her that before your next session,” Fareeha promised with a grin.

Ana snorted. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the compliment. Now - could we please focus on what you found?”

Fareeha nodded and began to pull up the extracted code, while Ana frowned as she attempted to make sense of it all. Some of this she was familiar with at this point from the fragments of code they’d recovered over the course of their work, but the fact remained that Angela had written her code like a doctor - and one who been working very hard to keep it from being duplicated. Nearly everything was badly formatted, most of the code was not commented well, if at all, and many functions were deceptively named - often in German.

“Here’s the first section of disabled code,” Fareeha highlighted a section, then copied it to a separate document so she could attempt to arrange it into something easier to read. “From what I can tell it seems to involve the nanosurgeons performing some kind of energy transfer? I see some metrics for transmission efficiency, and it seems to override the medical programming when activated.”

“ _Stärken_ ,” Ana murmured as she tapped a pen against her lips. “Means ‘strengthen’...energy transfer...some kind of augmentation?”

“It could be,” Fareeha agreed. “An alternate form of weaponizing the nanotech? Improving an ally instead of harming an enemy?”

“Perhaps…” Ana frowned thoughtfully. “Not something we can test until we’re manufacturing them reliably, though. If I’m reading this correctly, that level of energy transfer will burn them out rapidly unless you can constantly replace the nanosurgeons.”

“Like Dr. Ziegler’s staff.”

“Possibly.” Ana tapped the screen. “Save this. If we can get the farm working properly, we might be able to set up something - an injectable or some kind of single use device. Even if it only lasts for a minute or two, that could be very useful in the right hands.”

Fareeha nodded as she saved the file. “Comparatively easy, compared to _this_...” She pulled up a new block of code - a massive one. A forest of functions, subroutines, and instructions almost too deep to follow.

“ _What on earth..._ ” Ana tried to trace through the code with a fingertip, but it quickly became impossible.

“This is almost as much code as everything else put together,” Fareeha explained. “It’s almost like _this_ was the original plan and the rest was...pared back from this.”

“Has it got a name?”

“ _Ein-her-iar_ ,” Fareeha pronounced slowly. “I think I said that right…”

Ana frowned. “I’ve heard that word before…”

Fareeha shrugged. “Whatever it is, it appears to need a massive amount of nanosurgeons to even enable the function. Like some kind of...critical mass, almost.” Fareeha gave a snort as she tapped the screen. “Forget treating an injury - this would treat _every_ injury.”

That shifted something in Ana’s memory, and suddenly she recalled a Halloween night from years ago. A rare break in the fighting, so Gabriel, Reinhardt, and a few others from the original strike team had decided to throw a party, and they’d drank, danced, and told ghost stories through the night.

Reinhardt had been so drunk he’d started reciting _poetry_ …

 

_All the Einheriar fight in Odin's courts every day;_

_they choose the slain and ride from battle;_

_then they sit more at peace together!_

 

Ana sucked in a sharp breath as realization hit her. Great warriors, raised from the dead by the _Valkyrie_ so they could fight again… “Call Gabriel.”

Fareeha looked over, confused. “What? Why?”

Ana shook her head as the blood drained from her face. “I know what it does. I think. But I hope I’m wrong.”

Fareeha stood. “If it’s _that_ bad I’ll go get him and bring him back in person - and then you can explain this to _both_ of us.”

Ana sat back in the chair, watching as Fareeha disappeared through the door.

 _Angela, is there_ anything _you wouldn’t do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patience Mertz, the character mentioned by Ana and Fareeha, was borrowed from the [Shadows and Lights](http://archiveofourown.org/series/610072) series by [Barid](http://barid-bel-medar.tumblr.com/), with her kind permission. :)


	13. Armageddon Game

“...you are _shitting_ me.”

Gabriel Reyes had always known that Angela Ziegler was a bit of a mad genius. Ordinary doctors - even prodigies - didn’t earn their medical degree AND a master’s degree in applied nanoengineering by the age of 22. “Mercy” had always been constantly pushing herself to achieve things no one else even considered possible, driven by something Gabriel had never quite been able to put his finger on.

It was one of several reasons why he’d never fully trusted the good doctor. There were times when her approach was bordering on obsessive, and he’d wondered what she could possibly be trying to do.

Well.

Now, it seemed, he had an answer.

Ana shook her head from where she sat a desk in the R&D lab he’d set up for her to work on reverse engineering Ziegler’s tech. “I wish I was, but it’s the truth.”

Gabriel ran a hand over his face, trying to take that on board. “Angela was trying to _raise the dead?!”_

“Obviously there’s no indication that she ever succeeded,” Fareeha tapped her screen, bringing up the massive block of code for the so called “Einherjar Protocol”. “But based on this, that certainly seems to have been her goal.” She sat back in her chair. “The more I look at this - I think Angela was trying to develop this from the beginning - the rest of the nanosurgeons’ functions are all derived from this.”

Gabriel frowned. “Do you think she realized she was going too far?”

Ana shook her head. “Based on what we’ve seen her do since she joined Talon, I’m not sure Angela _has_ a concept of ‘too far’ any more.”

Gabriel sighed. “If that’s the case, _we_ deserve as much blame for that as Talon.”

Ana scoffed. “Why? Because of the rifle? She was clearly already going down this road.”

“The rifle, Genji, Oxton…” Gabriel shook his head. “Jack kept asking - _forcing -_ her to bend her morals. Push things further. Take things to the next level. If she’s a monster, we helped create her.”

Ana looked away as a chill settled in the room.

Fareeha cleared her throat, breaking some of the tension as she drew their attention back to her. “Obviously we’re not going to try to follow in her footsteps as far as this goes, but we did have some suggestions for more...reasonable battlefield applications.”

Gabriel straightened up in the chair. “Go on…”

Fareeha pulled up a new block of code. “This is what we’re calling the ‘boost’ protocol. Dr. Ziegler appears to have figured out a way to use the nanosurgeons to provide a short term boost to a subject’s speed, stamina, and reflexes. There’s also some indications of ways they could be used to improve weapons systems as well.”

Gabriel considered that, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Interesting. Go on…”

“This function will burn out the nanosurgeons in a fairly short time - I’ve run a few simulations, and none lasted more than about ten seconds - but in that time, you’d be practically unstoppable.” Fareeha tapped a key, and a schematic replaced the code. “There’s two options we could potentially use as a deployment mechanism. One is a basic injectable that could be issued to personnel going into the field, to be self-administered.”

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully. “I can see the idea. Especially for the higher level Overwatch agents...we know our capabilities better than anyone else. If you spotted a situation where that boost might be able to tilt the battle in our favor…nice.” He smiled at Fareeha, and didn’t miss the quiet pride in Ana’s eyes. “What’s your other option?”

“Same idea,” Fareeha explained, “but we equip specialized darts for additional copies of the biotic rifle or possibly a modified pistol. Something that the field medic or strike team commander could administer. Given the limited time window of effectiveness, it means the ‘target’ wouldn’t have to waste a second or two to draw or ready weapons after injecting themselves.”

“Huh.” Gabriel looked over to Ana. “Your thoughts?”

The Overwatch XO titled her hand back and forth. “I see the merits of both. I think we might actually consider making a few to be issued with the rifle, and a handful of self-injectors. Do some field testing, see what’s most effective. I’m not sure that slight delay to inject yourself is that big of an issue.”

“Fair enough. What else did you come up with?”

Fareeha tapped a screen and brought up a schematic for a small cylindrical object. “This is a bit like the biotic field emitters that were developed a few years ago, but with a bit more flexibility.” She advanced the screen, showing a wireframe of the cylinder being thrown like a grenade, and showing a “blast” radius of golden light. “Instead of the field forcing the user to anchor in place and make anyone needing treatment to come to them, a medic or anyone carrying this grenade in their kit can throw to administer it to cover just as wide of an area.”

“Useful,” Gabriel agreed, “especially if you’ve got someone who can’t move or the medic is pinned down.”

Ana gestured to her own screen. “I think I may be able to provide a similar version that can distribute the weaponized nanos, too. Not necessarily with enough force to kill outright, but certainly to weaken and injure opponents, or break down armor and omnic chassis components.”

Gabriel smiled. “I guess you took my suggestion to find a way to tear her apart literally, huh?”

Ana gave him a little smirk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Gabriel.”

Chuckling, Gabriel stood. “How are we doing on being able to manufacture nanosurgeons again?”

“The farm looks stable,” Ana reported, “I want to keep it running for a few more days before we start pulling off test batches, just to reduce the risk of mutations, but if all goes well we can start some field tests by the end of the week.”

Gabriel nodded. “Go for it - and go ahead with developing the boost tech and the grenades, too. I’ll clear it with Jack once you’re ready to go ahead on testing.” He grinned to Fareeha. “Pretty nice work for your first month on the job.”

Fareeha smiled back to him. “I have to admit it’s not how I saw myself serving in Overwatch, one day...but I’ve had a pretty good partner to work with.”

“I can bet.” He looked over to Ana. “How’s rehab going?”

“It’s…” Ana looked over at Fareeha, and grimaced. “Going.”

Fareeha rolled her eyes. “She means that she’s doing fairly well, but she’s not happy about the pace of her progress.”

Gabriel grinned. “I can’t _imagine_ where I’ve heard that before.”

Ana glared up at him. “ _Gabriel.”_

“Just keep working,” Gabriel smiled, “and you’ll be out there before you know it.”

* * *

Angela had been surprised to receive a summons to the conference room where they normally conducted their mission briefings and after-action reports, particularly by herself. Talon had put them into the field a few more times since the near-disaster in Poland, and Antoine hadn’t shown any signs of being displeased with the results.

As she entered the room, she frowned when she realized that Antoine was not alone.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

Angela nodded to him. “And to you Antoine.” She turned to the stranger, a tall, imposing looking man with skin the color of rich earth dressed in a crisp suit. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

Antoine cleared his throat. “Actually, that’s why I invited you here, Doctor. I’d like you to meet one of my colleagues...who was recently advanced to his current position. Dr. Angela Ziegler, Akande Ogundimu.”

Angela’s eyebrows rose as she extended her hand. “Ogundimu? As in Ogundimu prosthetics?”

Akande nodded, giving her a charming smile as he extended a hand. “That’s correct.”

Angela took the offered hand. “Your family’s work has been groundbreaking.” It had become an unconscious habit to perform a basic medical scan when she touched someone, and in Akande’s case the report from her nanoarray was...stunning.

_Muscular augmentation throughout patient. Skeletal augmentation in ribcage, clavicles, sternum. Prosthetic right arm anchored into the upper ribs and pectoralis. Integrated cybernetics. Augmented circulatory system. Cranial implants._

Good lord. The man was already in supreme physical condition, and the cybernetics boosted him to a truly superhuman level.

Akande shook her hand firmly, but not excessively. Clearly a man who knew his own strength, and felt no need to make a flamboyant show of it. “Thank you, Doctor. From you, in particular, that is high praise.”

Angela gave him a gracious smile as she accepted the compliment. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“If you’d care to sit,” Antoine gestured to the table, “I’ll let Akande explain why he’s come to meet with you today.”

Angela settled into a chair, and examined her superiors.

Despite Antoine saying that Akande had recently come into his position, the smaller man seemed to defer to him. Interesting. Was he simply wary of the man’s apparent power, or was there something more…?

Akande’s eyes swept over her, and she had no doubt she was being carefully analyzed as he began to speak. “Until a few months ago, I served under a man named Akinjide Adeyemi. You might know him better as -”

“Doomfist,” Angela supplied. “Though I believe most of the people of Numbani refer to him as ‘The Scourge’.”

Akande’s eyes flashed. “A colorful title, but the truth is that while the gauntlet made him appear formidable, his vision was...limited.” He shook his head dismissively. “The power to shake the world, and he was content to raid a single city now and then for money and entertainment. To rob _banks_ ,” Ayande scoffed, “when he could have caused an economic collapse.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “I cannot help but notice you are referring to him in the past-tense.”

Akande chuckled with obvious satisfaction. “Indeed, doctor. My predecessor is...no longer with us, and I have assumed the mantle he proved unworthy to hold. Including his former seat on Talon’s council.”

 _So,_ Angela thought to herself, _there is a council? Interesting. _

“In the past,” Angela replied carefully, “I was not given a great deal of...visibility into Talon’s leadership. I had assumed that it was for their protection, as well as my own.”

Antoine grimaced. “That is...not incorrect. But I must confess there was some concern that you might have been operating as a double agent. Recent events have disproven that theory. So it is time to give you a look behind the curtain, so to speak.”

Akande’s smile was friendly, welcoming...and dangerous. “You must forgive Antoine for being...overcautious. But as the newest member of the council I want to have a better understanding of the assets available to us.” He tilted his hand in her direction. “Including you, doctor, and your...team.”

Angela answered his smile with a razor sharp one, though she kept her voice pleasant and warm. “That seems entirely sensible, Mr. Ogundimu.”

“Please,” Akande opened his hand. “Akande is fine, doctor.”

Angela ducked her head. “Thank you. In any case, I quite agree that it’s wonderful idea for you to have a working knowledge of the entire organization. Would you care to meet Tracer and Widowmaker while you are here?”

“Later, yes. But for now...” Akande sat back in the chair. “Tell me, doctor. What do you see as Talon’s purpose?”

Angela’s eyes flicked to the end of the table. “Antoine called it...protecting humanity.”

“That is certainly part of it,” Akande agreed. “But you may have heard an American saying - ‘The best defense is a good offense.’ Humanity _must_ become stronger. More capable. So we are using these conflicts as a vehicle to encourage...growth.”

Angela considered that. “Exactly what kind of growth would you say Talon seeks, then?”

“Conflict drives innovation, encourages experimentation, and personal development.” Akande gesture to her. “Your conflict with the leaders of Overwatch brought you here, and as a result Talon has helped you expand your research. Develop improved versions of your nanotechnology, weapons, and suit. Lacroix has changed in ways she never could have imagined before she was brought into our fold. Oxton has developed her control over her teleportation and manipulating time. Each of you, in your own ways, have become far stronger than you could have otherwise.”

Angela frowned. “You are not wrong, but ‘conflict’ driving evolution - that those who become stronger through it have a right to rule the weak - is an argument I have heard before.” Her eyes narrowed. “It did not end well for those who espoused it.”

Akande gave her a thoughtful look. “I assure you I have far greater - and far less megalomaniacal - plans.” He gestured to the screens at the end of the room, which sprang into life, displaying footage from around the world. Australia. England. Mexico. Russia. “War is coming, doctor. Recent events make it clear that we are on the verge of a second Omnic Crisis.  We merely wish to take advantage of a storm that is already brewing.” He tilted his head slightly. “Particularly since your decision to eliminate Tekhartha Mondatta has served our needs in both the short and long term exceptionally well.”

Angela bristled slightly. _I made that decision to protect the hostages and the innocent in King’s Row, no more, no less._ She did her best to keep herself outwardly calm. “Perhaps I might have done more, if I had been aware of the complete situation.”

“Perhaps...” Akande reached into his suit jacket, and drew out a data drive which he slid across the table to her. “In the interests of which, you may find this interesting.”

Angela turned the drive over in her hand. “May I ask what it is?”

Antoine spoke up again. “You may recall that Lieutenant Oxton recovered an encoded data module from one of the scientists she and Widowmaker engaged in Krakow. We have finally been able to crack the encryption.” Antoine gave her a thin smile. “I suspect you will find it...interesting.”

“I see…” Angela slipped the drive into one of her labcoat’s pockets. “And how does this serve Talon’s long term goals?”

“Destabilizing - and ideally removing- Overwatch is a key part of our plans for the future,” Akande explained. “I believe that once you’ve reviewed the data Oxton recovered, you will have some thoughts on how to proceed.”

After Akande’s remarks about the data drive and ‘destabilizing’ Overwatch, Angela burned with curiosity over the drive’s contents, but she restrained herself to focus on the new Doomfist’s visit, escorting him through her lab and discussing her current research and development efforts before taking him to where he could observe Amélie and Lena training, separately and for joint exercises.

Akande watched them for several minutes in silence, obviously performing some kind of private analysis, then turned to speak to her. “Will you be joining them later? I’m quite curious to see your new suit in action - the reports Antoine provided have been quite impressive.”

Angela smiled at the compliment. He really was quite charming. Manipulative, there was no doubt, but charming. “We do normally do some joint training exercises, yes. I’m sure I can arrange one while you are visiting.”

Akande smiled. “Wonderful.” He turned back to the observation window. “How much difficulty did you have with Lacroix after shutting down her compulsory programming?”

Angela felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I have _modified_ the programming…”

Akande gave her a dangerously mild look out of the corner of his eye. “Antoine may not be terribly diligent in monitoring the laboratory security feeds, but I was able to find your little circumvention, doctor.” He reached into his jacket and drew out a pair of photographs that he handed to her.

Angela was pleased that she kept her fingers from trembling as she accepted the black and white stills, clearly taken off the security feed.

Amélie, grabbing onto her shoulders as she wept, her face contorted in a scream of anguish. The timestamp in the corner from the first night Angela had woken her up.

The second showing the three of them in the containment chamber, Lena’s chest missing the distinctive glow of the anchor, steaming cups of tea and coffee sitting at the table between them.

She turned back to the window. “Muscle memory and training have helped Amélie keep her edge, and as I told Antoine - I find that she is an even more dangerous combatant with a proper survival response once again.”

Akande inclined his head. “And she is...aligned to our goals?”

“She and Lena are aligned to _me_ ,” Angela noted, “and both agree with the overarching goal of protecting and defending humanity. If I am honest, I am not certain Amélie is completely devoted to Talon, but at the same time she is aware she has nowhere else to go.”

“Not even Overwatch?”

Angela shook her head before she looked over, making and holding eye contact. “Both of them are quite aware of how Overwatch failed them, and Morrison’s willingness to sacrifice Lena - and arguably Gérard. Blackwatch’s recklessness in London and Ana’s attempt to kill her...she would never go to Overwatch willingly.”

Akande chuckled quietly. “Acceptable.” His gaze dropped to the photographs again, then back to her . “Personal loyalty is valuable - as is ambition. Cultivating both is a sound strategy, particularly when you have...a limited number of allies.”

Angela met his gaze. “Why reveal your hand to me like this?”

Akande’s smile broadened, his teeth gleaming in what Angela realized was a genuinely amused smile. “What an interesting choice of phrase.” He gestured to the photographs. “I have several reasons. The one which will be most important to you is that Antoine’s position on the council is not as secure as he believes. He thinks that his successes with Lacroix, the events in King’s Row, and your recruitment make him untouchable. He has not realized that they are _your_ successes.”

Angela considered the unspoken offer. “You would have me replace him on the council.”

“Perhaps.”

Angela titled her head in acknowledgement. “You are aware our goals for Talon do not entirely align.”

“So much the better.” Akande’s grin had a rakish enthusiasm to it. “Similar enough to be allies against those with more banal priorities, but different enough to encourage greater efforts from us both when we are in opposition. I find myself looking forward to the challenge.”

Angela considered the merits and risks of what he was offering. Of what it might mean for her. For Lena. For Amélie. If they truly could openly _steer_ Talon, not simply attempt to manipulate it...  “Do you play chess, Akande?”

“Of course.”

Angela nodded. “Then you know a pawn that has survived to reach the opposite side of the board does so through perseverance and patience, not by demolishing the obstacles in its path. The promotion is _earned_ , not simply won.”

“True,” Akande conceded, “but it is almost impossible for the pawn to arrive there without acting to capture another piece in the process.”

“You are not wrong - but even that must be a calculated action, or the efforts will be wasted.”

Akande smiled warmly at her. “Perhaps we should sit down for a game some day, doctor. I feel like it would be a fascinating experience.”

Angela found herself returning his smile in kind. “Perhaps.”


	14. Enemy Of My Enemy

Lena crouched on the landing of a small apartment building in the simulated town they were using for training.

She hadn’t really been sure what to think about Angela’s broadcast alerting her and Amélie that an ‘unexpected opponent’ would be joining them.

They’d broken off their cat and mouse game, regrouped, and reloaded before heading back out, with Amélie swinging up to find a good vantage point while Lena began to move through the streets in search of whoever would be joining them.

“Got anything yet?”

Amélie was doing a pretty good job of imitating Widowmaker’s flat, cool delivery, but there was a slight undertone of frustrated tension that leaked through her performance. “No sign of Mercy or any targets.”

Amélie didn’t say anything over the radio, but Lena could just imagine how she was rolling her eyes. Lena had been about to tease her a bit more when the sniper’s voice came back on the line with a crackling intensity. “I have movement. Your two o’clock - _incoming!_ ”

Lena glanced to her right and saw _something_ barreling towards her in a cloud of dust and crackling energy. Blinking into the air, she looked down to see the newcomer slam a massive golden fist into the front of the building, cratering it.

_Whoa! If I’d been a little slower…ouch._

The dust cleared, revealing a massive, sculpted man in pants and an odd combination of armor and body paint. He had just begun to turn towards the street when a bullet struck some form of shield a few inches in the air in front of his eye, ricocheting off with a bright sounding _zing_ at almost the same instant Lena heard the crack of Widow’s Kiss firing.

The shot grabbed his attention, and Lena watched as their attacker raised his massive golden hand and began to move in the direction that Amélie had fired from.

Lena wasn’t about to let him get his hands on her partner. She let herself fall, then drew her pistols to strafe fire at his torso and head, the lower power pulse rounds strobing crazily along his shields before she began to blink around and above him, ducking swipes of the massive fist and bursts of cannon fire from the barrels that had apparently been implanted into his other arm.

Twice, the shields flatlined completely. The first time, their opponent dealt with it by rocketing himself upwards using some kind of booster installed in his massive gauntlet, forcing Lena to back off when he slammed back down to earth, but the second Amélie timed her shot perfectly, landing a hit that splashed red marker dye over his unarmored breast and collarbone.

“Not bad,” he intoned thoughtfully as he dropped to one knee, covering an armored fingertip in dye before looking to where Lena had landed a few meters away. “Using your mobility and rapid fire to create an opening for your marksman. A sound tactic.”

Lena smirked. “We’re just full of surprises.”

The golden clad man’s smile turned cruel. “Indeed.” Then, so quickly that Lena barely had time to blink clear, he was surging forward with a guttural roar, arcs of energy crackling off the knuckles of his fist.

Lena spun in midair to fire a burst at him, but she found herself with a faceful of cannon-hand instead. Yelping in surprise, she rewound herself backwards in time to evade the shot...and suddenly felt massive fingers wrapping around the back housing of the accelerator, the armored frame giving a warning creak as he slowly tightened his grasp. The implied threat was clear, and Lena let her pistols fall back into their holsters as she surrendered, letting her arms hang limp.

“Full of surprises,” the man continued as he held Lena in midair, “but you can still be anticipated. I would keep that in mind in your future battles.” He turned to where Angela was just landing, her eyes wide beneath her visor. “I believe this exercise is concluded, for now. You can tell Lacroix to come in as well.” In a surprisingly deft and gentle motion, he brought Lena to the ground and allowed her to find her footing before releasing her.

“Well,” Lena looked over to Angela with a deep chagrin, “that just happened.”

“Had this been a real fight,” her sparring partner noted, “your partner’s shot would likely have been enough to disable me. I’m willing to call today a draw.” His teeth sparkled as he smiled, but there was still a calculating coldness in his eyes. “I came in with full knowledge of your abilities, and those of Lacroix. You had no idea who or what I was, and still adopted an effective strategy almost immediately. I’m quite pleased to see how you both performed.”

Lena’s eyes darted over to Angela, who was giving her a guarded smile, and nodded to Amélie as she landed. “That’s...good, I suppose? I’m a bit confused about who you are, though, and what exactly is going on.”

The massive man chuckled and raised his gauntlet, turning it so they could see the crest embossed into the forearm. “I am _Doomfist_. But you are welcome to call me Akande, Oxton.” He let the gauntlet fall, and swept his gaze over all three of them. “You might say this was an opportunity for you to meet the new boss. I had some matters to discuss with Antoine and Dr. Ziegler earlier, and thought this would be an excellent way to gauge what each of you could do.”

“Oh.” Lena straightened, and saluted out of old reflex. “I see. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Akande nodded to acknowledge the salute. “That really isn’t necessary, but I appreciate the gesture. I’m afraid I will be leaving this facility shortly, but I am looking forward to working with all of you in the future.” His gaze lingered on Angela’s for a moment, and Lena felt a pang of irrational jealousy before wondering what else was going on there. She had a feeling there was something she was missing, and the slightly pensive look in Angela’s eyes as Akande spoke seemed to back that up.

She turned that over in her mind on the way back to the main lab complex, and it occupied Lena through checking her gear back in, undressing, and showering so thoroughly that she didn’t realize someone else had come into the showers until Amélie cleared her throat from behind her.

“May I have the shampoo?”

Lena was grateful she wasn’t wearing the accelerator, or she’d likely have blinked straight through the wall as she startled. “Wha-! OH! Sorry, what were you saying?”

Amélie had an odd look on her face as Lena turned around to face her. “I asked for the shampoo,” she said patiently, “three times.”

Lena blushed and reached for the bottle, handing it over. “Sorry, Amé. Got a bit lost in my own head, there.”

Amélie accepted the bottle and turned on the taps for her own shower, and Lena would admit to giving an appreciative look at the former ballet dancer out of the corner of her eye while she went back to her own washing up until Amélie spoke again. “What had you so occupied?”

Lena hung her head under the shower spray for a moment to rinse out the conditioner she’d put in before she tried to speak. “Something about the ‘new boss’ and how he was lookin’ at Angie.”

Amélie considered that while she finished shampooing her hair. “He is...formidable. Dangerous. I did not meet his predecessor, but I am aware that he was very highly ranked in Talon. Akande has obviously taken the rank along with the weapon.” Amélie went quiet for a moment, and then looked over at her with an expression that Lena couldn’t quite place. It reminded her a great deal of how Widowmaker had looked at her, now and then, but had an extra edge of something to it. A little possessive, Lena thought. If she didn't have a girlfriend, it would have been pretty hot.

Well. Honestly, it was _still_ pretty hot.

Amélie’s hands tightened into fists. “When I saw him put his hands on you, how he threatened you... I understand his warning that you were being predictable, but…” Her eyes hardened. “I did not like it.”

“Hey,” Lena reached out and took Amélie’s hand, gently unfolding her fingers. “I’m still here, OK? No harm done.” She gave a bashful chuckle. “It was pretty embarrassing, I admit...and a little scary, too. But I guess I’ll start working on mixing things up more. Try to watch how I time myself, and how I move around.”

Amélie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing her hand tightly as if to make sure it was truly solid. “Yes...yes, you are. I am sorry, _chér -_ ” Amélie cut herself off, then let go of her hand as her face flushed, turning back to the shower. “Lena. I am sorry.”

Lena blinked in confusion before she turned to finish with her shower. “No need to apologize...no harm done, and I appreciate you were worried about me, yeah? After all, the three of us stick together.”

Amélie nodded, but Lena noticed she didn’t turn back to look at her, focusing on the shower wall instead. “Of course.”

Lena turned her taps off, and went to grab her towel. “See you when we’re all finished, OK?”

Amélie nodded, and Lena waited until she had left the showers to shake her head in confusion.

_What the hell was that about?_

* * *

Angela sat at her desk and turned the Overwatch data module over in her fingers. The information Akande had decrypted - and the decision of what to do with it - hadn’t been explicitly linked to his offer, but she couldn’t help but feel the one would be entwined with the other.

The sound of the lab door opening grabbed her attention and she sat up straight, putting the module into her desk drawer before turning to see Lena coming in, dressed in a t-shirt and warm up pants, her hair still a bit damp.

“Amélie’s finishing up in the shower. Ready to head home?”

Angela stood up with a nod. “Yes...yes, I think so.”

Lena gave her a concerned look, but seemed to understand it wasn't a matter to be discussed while they were being monitored. “While it's just the two of us...have you noticed Amé acting a little strangely?”

Angela considered that as she grabbed her purse and coat. “How do you define strangely, given our current situation?”

Lena gave a soft ‘hah’ of something that wasn't quite laughter. “Just...she had a bit of an odd look when we were in the shower. Starting to say things and then stopping, and sort of clamming up. Like she wants to pretend it never happened. I'd noticed something like that once or twice before, but it was when she was being Widowmaker, before you adjusted things.”

Angela frowned. “Do you feel like she was...unsafe? Like you were in any kind of danger?” _Could Akande have done something to her? No...I'd have known._

“No,” Lena shook her head vigorously. “Not at all. Nothing like that. She just seemed...I don't know. Embarrassed, almost? Like she caught herself saying something she shouldn't.”

Angela tilted her head slightly as they left the lab. “I'm not sure. Do you think I should talk to her about it?”

Lena chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure. Maybe? If something’s bothering her, and it’s about me...I’d rather get it out in the open air than let it fester.”

“I wanted to talk to both of you about some things I learned today,” Angela admitted as she locked up. “I’ll start with that, and perhaps I can talk to her privately afterwards.”

Lena nodded, then smiled as Amélie came around the corner. “And there you are! Feel like some dinner?”

Amélie rolled her eyes, carrying herself with just a slight bit of stiffness while she was in public as Widowmaker. “I would never presume to come between you and your ravenous appetite.”

Angela couldn’t help but smile at the way Lena stuck out her tongue with an exaggerated frown. “Here I was going to suggest visiting that café you liked, and this is the thanks I get?”

She held up a placating hand to both of them before Amélie could reply. “I think somewhere on the waterfront might be best, actually. Why don’t we head down to the canal?”

They both nodded agreement, and Angela lead them outside, walking a few blocks before they summoned a taxi, and Lena gave the driver the address of a restaurant they’d visited in the Vilvoorde a few weeks before as they all settled into the back.

Amélie gave Lena a reserved little smile. “Your French is improving - it’s almost terrible, now, instead of atrocious.”

Lena rolled her eyes as she finished buckling up. “Thank you _so_ much, luv.”

Angela took Lena’s hand with a mischievous smile of her own. “Well, she isn’t wrong, exactly. I think ‘terrible’ might be a little strong, though. ‘Tolerable’, perhaps?”

“Oi!”

They kept up a few little jokes and barbs until they’d been seated at a table near the water, where the sound of moving water would break up any listening devices or surveillance attempts. Angela waited for their food to be delivered, then grew a bit more serious as she got down to business. “I’d like to know what each of you thought of our visitor today.”

Amélie’s eyes flicked to Lena for a moment, and she sat back with a little wave of her hand, signaling for her to go first.

Lena took a sip of her beer to buy herself a moment. “Aside from the moment where he terrified me? He seems smart. Like, _scary_ smart. If he’s the boss...that could be a problem for us.” She toyed with her fork as she considered their encounter. “Working together, I think we could take him, if he’s by himself. Any of us alone, though? I wouldn’t like our odds.”

“He’s dangerous,” Amélie agreed. “Cunning, and powerful. But he has reason. He could be an excellent ally...but I would not make the mistake of trusting him.”

Angela nodded, taking a drink of her wine before she leaned forward. “I think you’re both correct. Which is why you need to know that Akande spoke to me privately, after meeting with Antoine...and has all but promised me Antoine’s seat on Talon’s council if I support his plans to remove him.”

Her partners froze as they took that on board, the only sound Lena’s sharp intake of breath until Angela spoke again.

“There’s more.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “ _More?_ What else could there possibly be?!”

Angela shook her head. “Akande was able to find my hacks into the camera systems - though he hasn’t shared that knowledge with Antoine - and…” She drew the photograph of Amélie weeping in the lab out of her purse, and slid it across the table. “He knows I disabled what he called your ‘compulsory programming’, Amé.”

Amélie’s face had gone pale, leaving her blue tinged lips even more stark against her skin. “He knows…” Her golden eyes flicked up, a flash of panic in them. “That is why he used my name?”

“Perhaps. It seems like he does that to everyone he considers a subordinate.” Angela sat back and took up her wineglass again. “I pointed out that our agendas do not necessarily dovetail. We both want to protect and strengthen humanity, but his desire to drive that through open war is not necessarily our intention.”

Lena frowned. “So, we just let him get away with blackmailing us? Do whatever he says?”

Angela shook her head. “Not at all. I made it clear that if I accepted his offer, I’m not doing it out of blind loyalty or under duress. I think he may have some goals I am willing to support - within reason - but I also made it clear I’ll oppose him if necessary.” She smiled with pride at both of them. “And should it come to that, I believe that yes, we _can_ defeat him together. He may be familiar with all of us, but a fight in training is very different from the real thing.”

“You will accept his offer, then?” Amélie handed back the photograph, her color slowly returning.

Angela nodded. “I have to, really. It gets us closer to our goals, protects both of you...and comes with the promise of information on what Overwatch was up to in that lab.” Angela looked into the dark red wine, swirling it slowly around the glass. “We’ve gone too far to simply stay Antoine’s pawns, when the possibility of more control of Talon and our own future is within our reach.”

“Just be careful, Angie.” Lena leveled the fork at her. “The enemy of your enemy isn’t always your friend.”

Dinner from that point on was a very subdued affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New art (including a wallpaper!) from Atheris over on [Tumblr!](http://redcap3.tumblr.com/post/164544752757/abyss-ch-14)


	15. You Begin To Think Of Such Things

Ana stood at the window overlooking one of the Training and Evaluation rooms, savoring the fact that she was standing without requiring any additional support.

She’d finally been cleared to get rid of the damned cane, and even if she was still building up her upper body and lung capacity again, she could at least walk without feeling like an invalid. Ana had marked the occasion by going out to the sniping range and running two boxes of ammo through her Kinamura, and inviting Fareeha to join her.

Fareeha wasn’t really trained to be a spotter, but she learned quickly and demonstrated that she was a well trained marksman in her own right when Ana offered Fareeha the opportunity to try her hand.

If Ana had been imagining Lacroix, Oxton, and Ziegler’s faces when she took a few shots...well. Motivation was good for recovery, she’d been told.

She turned towards the sound of the door opening and nodded to Gabriel as he came inside.

“We ready?”

Ana nodded as she turned back to the window. “We were waiting on you. I’ve got the training simulation loaded.”

Gabriel grunted as he came up to stand next to her. “Sorry, my daily shouting match with Jack ran over.”

Ana turned so she could give Gabriel a concerned look. “What happened today?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Personnel allocation. I need to replace Jesse, and I don’t think Genji will be far behind. Jack offered to move him over to Overwatch proper, but he’s still pissed about the kill switch. I think he’s more likely to tell Jack to go fuck himself and ghost.”

Ana reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I can’t imagine this is easy for you.” Gabriel had practically raised Jesse, and had treated Genji as a surrogate son almost as quickly once he’d realized what the bitter, broken young man needed. To have one walk away without a word and the other cursing his name…she knew a very similar pain, and how it had worn on her.

Gabriel closed his eyes and seemed like he wanted to say something, then stopped himself, focusing on work, instead. “Jack’s also dealing with Reinhardt being ordered to stand down - which he’s taking about as well as you’d expect - and Torb wanting to step away to spend some time with his family. Add that to the people we lost from your squad and we’re looking at a serious gap in high level field agents.”

Ana grunted, feeling a bit of her lingering guilt flare up at the mention of her fallen teammates. “If he can’t bring Genji over, is he asking to poach some of your other operators?”

Gabriel nodded, then looked meaningfully out the window. “Among others…”

Ana scowled. “I would have liked him to discuss that with me, not you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Jack doesn’t know what we’ve had her doing. As far as he knows I pulled a few strings to have Fareeha sent over as your aide-de-camp while you recover. I think he’s expecting me to pitch keeping her in Blackwatch, since the loan request to the Egyptian Army is in my name, then propose to bring her over to the main force instead.”

“Even so,” Ana replied coolly, “that only fills one slot. We need...what, six? Seven? At a _minimum_.”

“Before Jack completely shoved his head up his ass, he discussed asking Winston to move out of pure research and back into field ops, at least part time. Maybe talk to HSI or a few other outfits about poaching people. Assemble a training cadre.” Gabriel shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Ana crossed her arms over her uniform blouse. “I see the logic, but he’d better not expect me to play babysitter. I want to get back into the field, not to shepherd cadets while we figure out who has what it takes.”

“You and me both,” Gabriel agreed. He gestured to the window. “But we’ll deal with that later. Right now…let’s get back to why we’re supposed to be here.”

“Right.” Ana reached for a tablet and pulled up the training program. “So - close quarters simulation. We’ve set up training bots to imitate the behavior of several potential OpFors. First wave...an omnic insurrection, similar to what we saw in London.” She tapped the GO key, and below them the T&E room’s lighting switched from standby amber to active red, while hard light constructs sprang up to form barricades, buildings, and chokepoints.

Training bots began to move into the maze, some alone, some in small squads, and a few moments later a door slid open on the opposite side in the room, and a figure in bright blue Overwatch tactical gear entered at a run, a pulse rifle in her hands and a black and yellow striped bracer over one of her arms.

Fareeha fired in short, controlled bursts at the first few training bots she found, knocking four out before she slid into cover behind a low wall, reloaded, and popped back up to take out another pair.

“Not bad,” Gabe commented as he watched her finish the last bots in the first wave. “Good aim runs in the family, hm?”

Ana smiled just a little as she keyed up the next wave - and reconfigured the simulation to reduce the amount of available cover. “This next wave is simulating a small tactical force - with some maneuvers we’ve observed Talon using.”

“Going to tell her to kick it up a notch?”

Ana kept her eyes focused on the battlefield. “I’m letting her decide when to activate it.”

Their wait came to an end during the fourth wave, a formation of three simulated Bastion units. Fareeha tossed a grenade underhand to take out the point unit while it was still in its bipedal recon mode, then waited for the remaining Bastions to exhaust their magazines.

Once she heard the distinct _clunk-clack_ of the turrets ejecting their spent ammo containers, Fareeha brought the middle and ring fingers of her left hand in, tapping them against a pressure pad concealed in the palm of her glove.

Ana watched the words _NANOBOOST ACTIVATED_ appear on the top of her tablet and pointed to where Fareeha was already springing from cover at borderline superhuman speed. “There!”

Almost before she’d finished speaking, Fareeha had flanked the turrets and blasted the second Bastion’s exposed sensor hub to pieces, the bot falling into a smoking heap.

The final Bastion finished reloading and began to fire, but Fareeha was already rolling into cover as the boost’s effect began to fade, using her last moments under its influence to spring to her feet and fire a burst from the hip one handed, the shells walking across the thinner armor at the back of the power core before punching through and shattering it.

There was a long moment of silence as Ana shut down the training room, finally broken by Gabriel’s long, low whistle. “OK,” he murmured as Fareeha slung her rifle and walked to the center of the now empty room, “I am _impressed_. Can you imagine what we could have done with that stuff back when we were going into the Omniums?”

Ana grunted. If Angela had been honest with them back when she’d first developed this capability…  “It’s a useful tool, but it’s only as good as the soldier who wields it.”

Gabriel smirked. “Any tool can be a weapon if you hold it right...and in this case, I think it’s clear we’ve put it into the right hands.”

Ana’s pride in her daughter’s accomplishments as a soldier warred with a mother’s concern for what seemed like the millionth time. “I want to run tests before we move to field trials. Make sure there’s no side effects or long term health concerns from the nanites - even if they are rendered inert.”

“Fair enough.” Gabriel tossed Fareeha a respectful salute, and received a beaming smile in return before she left to go clean up and tear down her equipment. “I’ll schedule a meeting with Jack to brief him in on the results of our development project once you give me the OK for field trials of the boost module and the other biotic weapons.”

Ana looked down at her hands as she considered that that would mean. “And once we put them into production? What then?”

Gabriel put a hand on her arm. “We’re leaving that Einherjar stuff where we found it. I didn’t join up to play God. But the rest will give us some good countermeasures against anything Ziegler might cook up for Talon...and I think we’ve waited long enough to take the fight to them.”

Ana nodded. “And Fareeha?”

Gabriel’s face became grave, his dark eyes full of sympathy, but tinged with a hint of steel. “We both know that needs to be her decision, Ana.”

Ana looked back out on the empty training room, locking eyes with her own reflection. “Jack has made a lot of decisions over the last few years that I’ve questioned. Sometimes I’ve come around to support his call, but lately…” She shook her head. “Fareeha has earned a place here. I’ve accepted that, and you’re right - serving here _does_ need to be _her_ decision. But as her mother _and_ as her superior officer, I would feel more comfortable if I was not part of her chain of command...and knowing that she is serving under a commander that I trust.” She turned enough to lock eyes with Gabriel, her voice hushed. “Do you understand, Gabriel?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said softly as he nodded. “Yeah, Ana...I do.”

* * *

Despite her promise to Lena that she would try to clear the air with Amélie, it hadn’t felt right to try discussing anything after their rather grim meal, and Angela had decided it might be best to wait a few days before making an attempt.

She found an opportunity on the following weekend when Lena decided to see a motor scooter that she’d noticed in the local bargain boards. Since she was (hopefully) planning to drive herself back on her purchase Lena had taken a cab, which meant that Angela found herself sitting in the living room catching up on some journal articles while Amélie nursed an afternoon glass of wine and watched a cooking show.

“Watching anything particularly interesting?”

Amélie glanced over to her and shook her head. “It was the least boring option.”

Angela nodded, setting her tablet aside. “Do you mind if I ask you about something, then?”

Amélie picked up the remote and shut the TV off, then turned on the couch so they could speak face to face. “Go on…”

“This is…” Angela paused, trying to consider how to say it. “Lena is concerned she’s done something to offend you.”

Amélie blinked, her head tilting slightly. “What? No, not at all. Why would she think that?”

Angela reached for her water bottle. “She said you’d been a bit strangely around her...she spoke to me about it the afternoon of your fight with Doomfist, but there wasn’t really a good time to bring it up, afterwards, and I think Lena’s been concerned she might make it worse, somehow, if she pressed the matter.”

Angela didn’t miss the way Amélie’s fingers tightened on the stem of her wineglass. “Oh.” She looked away, her face flushing. “I was...I should have realized she noticed.” Amélie shook her head before raising the wineglass to her lips again and taking a healthy drink. “As much as we tease her, Lena is very clever. Sometimes more than we give her credit for.”

“Yes,” Angela agreed with a smile, “she often is. She tends to be very energetic and a bit...over enthusiastic, sometimes, but she is very smart. She wouldn’t have been selected for the _Slipstream_ project if she wasn’t.” She leaned forward and let her voice drop into a friendly, conspiratorial tone. “So...tell me what’s going on, Amé?”

Amélie met her eyes for a moment and then looked away guiltily. “It’s…I’m not sure I _can_ , _l’ange._ ”

Angela reached out, putting a hand on her knee. “Amélie...how long have we been friends, even before all this? Please. Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”

Amélie went silent for a moment as she considered that, then carefully placed her wineglass on the coffee table before she let herself fall back into the couch, staring at the glass rather than meet Angela’s eyes. “I have been dealing with...feelings I am not sure I should have. Feelings that I am not sure are mine.”

“I’m not sure I understand…”

Amélie shrugged, still not willing to look up. “I told you before that being Widowmaker was like being in a dream. Like I could see what was going on...know what I was thinking...but it wasn’t really _me_ , even when I tried to react to what was going on around me...what I had done.”

Angela nodded sympathetically. “Yes, I recall. So when you say feelings you are not sure are yours…?”

“I... _she_...had started to like Lena.” Amélie held up a hand to stop Angela from interrupting her. “She is my friend, but I what I felt was...stronger than that. When I saw him grab her accelerator…” She reached out as if she wanted to grab the wineglass and then stopped herself. “I wanted to kill him for that, Angela. And I knew that Widowmaker would have done the same.”

Angela blinked, trying to take all of that on board before she answered. “Does...does that happen often? Where you feel like you are still Widowmaker, and not Amélie?”

“It is more complicated than that.” This time Amélie did reach for her wine, and drained it before she continued. “It is not that I am one or the other...I am _both_. I know what she would think...I can almost hear her speaking.” Amélie shrugged. “I think it is a bit...stronger...when I am fighting. Killing.” She looked away, biting her lip. “Killing...makes us both feel good. Excited. Stronger. She thought it was simply feeling alive, but it is more than that.”

“At the risk of being crude,” Angela said slowly, “ _la petite mort?”_

Amélie bit her lip and shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Ah…” Angela could feel her own face warming as she considered a few reactions Amélie had shown around her in the field of training in that new light. “But I am still not sure what that has to do with Lena, exactly.”

“Because she is your _girlfriend_ , Angela!” Amélie stood, clearly embarrassed and flustered as she grabbed her glass and walked back towards the open bottle in the kitchen. “Because I should not be thinking about _either_ of you that-” Amélie clapped her free hand over her mouth, mortified.

“Oh.” Angela stood and followed her into the kitchen, trying to keep her voice light. “Both of us? Is that...new?”

Amélie’s voice was soft and shaky in the wake of her accidental confession. “Not...entirely.”

Angela was starting to wish she had grabbed some of the wine for herself. “May I ask how long?”

“Long enough…” Amélie shook her head. “I would never have betrayed my vows, and Gérard was...not the type to consider anything like that. But you are a beautiful and charming woman, Angela. A wonderful friend.” She finally refilled her wineglass. “I was very lonely, at times. Weeks, sometimes months while he was chasing phantoms.” She picked up the glass and stared into the shimmering liquid. “You begin to think of such things, when you are so alone.”

Angela couldn't help the shiver that ran up her spine at those thoughts. A thousand thoughts and idle fantasies spun through her head. Memories cast in a new light, and the whispering doubts of _what if…?_

If Angela had pursued her feelings before, and Amélie given into her temptations, would Talon have been able to abduct her?

Would Angela have had the proof she needed to keep Amélie under observation after her rescue?

Would any of them be standing here now?

She shook herself out of it. It was as she’d told Lena after London. She had to accept her actions - and their consequences.

Angela stepped forward and put a hand on Amélie’s shoulder. “Amé...leaving aside that Lena and I have never really discussed how...exclusive...we wish to be, there is no shame in having fantasies or feelings of attraction. There’s no need for you to be scared of them, or to hide from us.”

Amélie was quiet for a long moment. “I told Lena that I thought Gérard would want me to keep going. To find happiness. He never spoke of it directly, but we both knew a soldier’s life was a dangerous one.” She gently shrugged out of Angela’s touch. “I know I should not feel guilt or shame for this, and yet…”

“Would you act on these...feelings...without my consent? Or Lena’s?”

“No,” Amélie shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.”

“Then there is no harm in having them. If it makes you feel better to say we’re pretty, say it. If it helps you to call me _l’ange_ or call Lena whatever you like, do it.” Angela gently slipped the wineglass from Amélie’s fingers, and took a sip of the crisp white. “I can’t tell you how to mourn, Amélie, or when you will feel ready to move forward. But you are my friend - our friend - and we want to be there for you.”

“I shouldn’t…we can’t!” Amélie’s voice trailed off into a choking sob, and tears welled in her eyes.

Angela put the glass on the counter, and wrapped Amélie in a tight hug. “Shh. You should. You can...we can.” Amélie wrapped a hand around her like a drowning woman grasping into a life raft, and she gently ran a hand through Amélie’s dark hair as tears began to soak into her shirt. “I’m here. _We’re_ here…”

She wasn’t sure how long they stood in the kitchen like that before the sound of the apartment door opening caught Angela’s attention.

Lena came into the living room wearing a halfway unzipped brown leather bomber jacket, an open faced motorcycle helmet dangling from one hand. “I’m back! Want to come and see…? _Oh._ ”

Amélie stiffened, but Angela just gently ran a hand along her back until she relaxed again.

“In here, Lena. I think she could use both of us, right now.”

Lena nodded, dropping her helmet on the couch and shrugging out of her jacket, leaving it on the coffee table. “Group hug time, then?”

Amélie took a shuddering breath as Lena’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “I...I don’t…”

“Shh.” Angela gently stretched herself up so she could kiss Amélie’s forehead. “You do. And it is fine.” She looked over Amélie’s shoulder, making eye contact with Lena. “Bedroom?”

Lena took her meaning and gave one last squeeze before slipping back a few steps. “Ok.”

Amélie’s voice was still thick with her maelstrom of emotions. “It’s only three in the afternoon.”

Angela smiled indulgently. “That’s not the point, _süsse._ ”

They lead Amélie back to bed and kicked off their shoes, then settled her on the bed between them, holding her in their arms. Nothing forward. Nothing sexual. It was simply the affection that Amélie had been in desperate need of, beneath it all.

Angela had a feeling they would all have to talk more about this...but for now, as Amélie wiped her tears away with a shy, grateful smile, it was enough.

* * *

Angela had left the Overwatch data locked in her desk since the day Akande had given it to her, but after careful consideration, she knew it was time to move forward.

Settling into her desk chair, she woke up the dedicated computer that was linked into the Talon network, then opened the encrypted messaging program that was used for internal communications.

Nearly every user in the system that she was cleared to see had a codeword or reference number rather than a full name or title, but after some consideration it wasn’t difficult to find the recipient she wanted.

 

 _TO: Successor_ _  
_ _FROM: Valkyrie_

_f1=Q#_

_Shall we play another?_

 

She wasn’t surprised to see a reply appear within minutes.

 

 _TO: Valkyrie_ _  
_ _FROM: Successor_

_Feel free to reset the board when you are ready to begin. Your seat at the table awaits._

 

Angela deleted the messages, then unlocked her desk drawer and slotted the drive into her desktop.

The summary files for Project Cronus only took her thirty minutes to read.

The more detailed research and reports took nearly three hours.

When she finished, Angela made a copy of the decrypted files and delivered it onto another portable drive, then secured the original back in her desk.

She had a great deal of work to do.


	16. The Right Thing

The cantina in Dos Bocas didn’t have name, these days. Perhaps it had, once, before the Crisis. Before the Omnics had torn Mexico apart, and the battles to ‘liberate’ the countryside had done as much or more damage than the machines had.

Now, if you lived in Dos Bocas and you wanted a drink, you just went to the cantina, and if you wanted someone to meet you there, you just told them to get a table.

Jesse McCree had gotten a table in the cantina for the past two days. He’d consumed more piss warm Chango than he cared to think about, mixing in a few shots of smoky mezcal that probably could have been used to run a diesel generator if he’d been of a mind.

All things considered, he _could_ have been waiting over in Dorado. The glittering city that Lumérico had built from the ashes of the war shined beneath their ziggurat power stations, a beacon of the new, modern Mexico that had been promised...and had never come.

Dorado was there for the tourists, and catered to them with cold beer, top shelf liquor, and all the conveniences. Which also meant increased security, electronic monitoring, and all sorts of biometric logging.

Not exactly ideal when your goal was to disappear off the radar.

So he was here in Dos Bocas, where the beer was terrible, but it was still safer than the water.

He’d nearly finished his third beer of the day when he realized someone was there looking for him - but it wasn’t the wild haired hacker he’d been expecting to meet.

The woman who walked into the cantina had a dancer’s grace in her walk that her low heeled boots and padded jacket did nothing to disguise, while the short, brushy haired companion who followed her looked back and forth, her eyes darting around behind the dark sunglasses she wore.

Neither looked directly at him, but Jesse didn’t need to be a genius to figure out why Oxton and the woman Angela had called Widowmaker were here. He hadn’t seen her up close in London, but her silhouette was close enough.

He shifted as subtly as he could in his seat, letting his old green serape drape over his lap, concealing the bulk of Peacemaker on his hip.

He let his fingers slide down to rest on the revolver’s wooden grips, while his free hand gently tipped down the brim of his cap before reaching for his mug.

A frosty mug of dark amber liquid was dropped in his path with a thunk of heavy glass on wood. “I think you might enjoy this a bit more than that swill.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he sat back, letting his hat tip back again as he took a long look at Angela Ziegler. “Is that a fact?”

Angela was dressed in a dark blue sundress that left her shoulders and arms bare, her hair in a loose bun beneath a broad hat. “Mm. Frostfoam root beer. You had a taste for it, as I recall.”

Jesse let his gun hand slide back into his lap as he gestured to the other side of the table. “Suppose I always did. Care to sit down?”

“Thank you.” Angela reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, placing it flat on the table before sliding it across the table. “I believe this is what you’re waiting for.”

Jesse didn’t make a move to touch it. “Mind if i ask what you’re doing with it, Angie?”

“Your friend from Los Muertos happens to be doing some work for a...business associate of mine.” She smiled blandly and tilted her head slightly to one side. “I wanted to speak with you, and this was a good way to accomplish that.” She removed another envelope, and placed it next to the other, but let her hand rest on the envelope rather than letting go. “I also arranged to pay for her...services. Consider this your refund.”

Jesse frowned, rolling his unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “You wanted to talk...and you want to give me my money back...in exchange for what, exactly?”

Angela laughed softly. “You always were clever, Jesse.” She leaned forward, her eyes dead serious despite her earlier joking tone. “I need you to get me in touch with someone, Jesse, and I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

Jesse reached out to pick up the envelope with his new “clean” identity, turning it over in his hands before he made it disappear under the serape, tucking it into a hidden pocket. “Who, exactly?”

Angela gave a thin, humorless smile. “I think you can guess. There’s only so many people I can’t make my own arrangements to contact, given my...new resources...and even fewer that only you can contact on my behalf.”

“What,” Jesse drawled with a smirk, “you think _el Jefe_ wouldn’t take your phone call if you dialed him up?”

Angela shrugged. “Well, we didn’t part on the closest terms...but a phone call wouldn’t be sufficient in any case.” Her voice hardened, taking on a more businesslike tone. “An in person meeting. Neutral ground. I’ll even let him specify where and when. But it has to be _soon_ , Jesse. There is no time to waste.”

Jesse reached for the root beer and took a long drink, savoring the cold, sweet liquid before he put his other hand on the second envelope. “48 hours. You got a way for me to contact you?”

Angela nodded, taking her hand off the money. “There’s a phone number in the envelope. Wait for the tone, then provide the time and place.”

“I’ll do it,” Jesse promised as he made the second envelope disappear, “but after that I am _done_. I don’t know what you’re plannin’, or why you’re fixin’ to talk to him, and I don’t want to know. I’m walking away, Angela. I don’t want any part of you, him, Overwatch, or anyone else.”

Angela’s eyes were touched with sadness, but she nodded. “I think we could find a place for you, if you ever change your mind, but I understand. I’ll respect your wishes, Jesse.”

Jesse finished the rest of his root beer, then stood up before doffing his hat so he could give Angela a respectful nod. “Much obliged, Doctor. Thank you kindly for the drink - and all the rest, I suppose.”

Jesse replaced his hat, gave a little smile to Oxton from where she was doing a piss poor job of trying to act like she wasn’t watching, and left the Cantina.

He had a message to deliver, after all.

* * *

Angela yawned into her hand, wondering if perhaps she ought to get another coffee. She’d had two already today, but to her chagrin it seemed nanotech enhancements were no match for jet lag.

Still, spending the rest of Saturday in Dorado before flying back to Brussels had been lovely, and being able to give Lena the chance to fly them home on Sunday afternoon had been worth all the sleep she’d lost.

She’d done her best not to think about the burner phone or the call she’d hopefully be receiving some time in the next...14 hours, or the chain of events that would likely follow. Still, Angela couldn’t help but keep the phone close, willing it to ring.

_It’s not that I don’t trust you, Jesse, but I would really appreciate knowing how and when I will be moving forward._

Well...that wasn’t entirely true. There was one task she could complete at any time - that she had, if Angela was being honest with herself, had been putting off for some time.

Sighing, she stood and picked up her mug. She’d grab one last cup of coffee, and finally finish that bit of business, at least.

Once she’d filled her mug and doctored the coffee with her preferred levels of cream and sugar, Angela checked her watch. Half an hour before lunch. Lena would be running on the indoor track right now, and Amélie would be in the gym.

A good time to visit Antoine.

She smiled to a few administrative staff members and security personnel that she passed in the hall, acknowledging a few who greeted her directly before she reached the desk of the administrative assistant who guarded Antoine’s office.  

“Good morning, Mila. Has the director left for lunch yet?”

Mila looked up with a pleasant smile. “Oh, good morning, Doctor Steenbakker. No, he’s just finished a phone call with Mr. Korpal, I believe. Would you like me to make sure he’s free?”

Angela returned the smile. She honestly wasn’t sure how much Mila really knew about what went on here, but there was no sense in tipping her hand either way. “If it’s not too much trouble. I need to go over some data with him - it will just take a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Mila stood and gestured to one of the chairs in the outer office. “Wait just a moment, I’ll be right back.”

She sat and drank a bit of her coffee, her eyes flicking to the industry magazines sitting on the low table. _Nature_ , _Science,_ _Popular Mechanics_ , _Forbes_... She could be sitting in the foyer of a thousand different offices.

She wondered if Antoine actually read any of them, or if he simply asked for them to be ordered as set dressing.

She noticed the _World Inquirer_ and her eyebrows rose at the headline splashed beneath a dire looking weather map: **Antarctic Base Lost In Polar Storm**

 _I must have missed that in the news._ Angela picked up the magazine and flipped to the cover article, and her heart sank as she read. Whatever issues she had with Overwatch as a whole - and Jack Morrison in particular - the EcoPoint teams had been a shining light, one of the few unreservedly positive aspects of the organization. Dedicated, brilliant scientists who wanted nothing more than to find ways to make the world a better place, and heal the damage mankind had dealt to their home planet over the last two centuries.

Angela shook her head as she closed the magazine and placed it back on the table. “Unfortunately, nature doesn’t really care who you are…” If the crew at Ecopoint: Antarctica hadn’t rotated since she’d left Overwatch, that would have been Macready’s team down there. A shame - she’d rather enjoyed chatting with Mei when the bubbly little climatologist had come through headquarters a few times.

She’d have to light a candle for them later.

“Doctor?” Mila had returned, gesturing to the inner office. “Go on in!”

“Ah, thank you Mila.” Angela stood and walked towards the inner office. “You can head to lunch if you like - I shouldn’t need anything else.”

“Oh, thank you! I was just thinking I might slip out.”

Angela knocked at the inner office door before she opened it out of long habit, her best professional smile on her face as she stepped inside. “Good morning, Antoine. Thank you for giving me a bit of your time.”

Antoine nodded with that infuriatingly bland smile.. “Of course. How can I help you, Doctor?”

“I had wondered if you’d reviewed any of the data that Lena recovered from Overwatch?”

Antoine shrugged. “I reviewed the summaries, but not the technical details.”

“Ah.” Angela pulled a drive from her coat, offering it to him. “Would you mind pulling up the files - I have some suggestions for how we might be able to take advantage of some weaknesses in the code for our own purposes.”

“Certainly.” Antoine reached out to take the drive from her, and as he touched the fingers of her hand, Angela released a swarm of nanosurgeons into his body, tailored for a very specific purpose.

Antoine froze, his fingers wrapped around the blank data drive she had handed to him, as the nanosurgeons began to interdict the activity of the axons in his precentral gyrus and neuromuscular junction.

Angela smiled as Antoine’s eyes focused on her. She’d left his involuntary nervous system intact for the moment - she thought she owed him an explanation, really. It would be rather embarrassing for him to suffocate in the middle of that.

“I do intend to use the data you’ve given me against Overwatch.” Angela sat back in the chair, considering him carefully. “I suspect you’d be rather shocked at exactly _how_ I plan to act, but I have a feeling Akande will approve as it plays out.” She shook her head. “Honestly, the offer of your seat on the council was quite a temptation, but your days have been numbered for some time. Trying to put the blame on that ham-fisted toad who had been executing the ‘upgrades’ was shrewd, but once I had the project files, it was clear you were responsible for the Widowmaker program from day one, Antoine.”

Angela stood, and plucked the drive from his fingers. She strongly doubted anyone would be questioning her, given Akande’s promises, but there was no sense in leaving evidence around. “I considered giving your death to Amélie - she certainly has the right - but I decided this would be cleaner. Kinder, really. No blood, no mess, no bullets or poison…” She reached out to lightly stroke his cheek, feeling the sweat rising on his clammy skin. “You’re just going to _stop_.”

She tucked the drive back into her coat, and picked up her coffee mug. “Thank you for all your help, Antoine. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to come so far without you.”

Angela left the office and closed the door behind her.

She heard the sound of Antoine’s corpse hitting his desk just before she made her way out of the inner office.

If she was lucky, she could catch the girls before they left the gym’s showers and see if they’d like to go out for some lunch.

* * *

Gabriel didn’t like this. Not one damn bit.

The message requesting an in person meeting had come from one of the cutouts he’d created back when Blackwatch had been infiltrating Deadlock, and after he’d replied to set up the details, the next had gone through another cutout he’d created for Jesse when he’d been working on recon for the operation against the Shimada Clan that eventually lead to Genji’s recruitment.

He hoped Jesse had a _damn good reason_ for exposing those old channels, because you never knew when you’d need a back door, and he’d burned _three_. Gabriel had taught him better than that.

They’d specified single representative, no guns, no tactical gear, so he was wearing a comfortable dark blue hoodie over one of his workout shirts and a pair of jeans, a steaming cup of _preso_ helping with the slightly chilly autumn afternoon. Kladno was a nice city to visit and do business in. He really ought to come back here sometime and just tourist it up.

_Not that I’m getting a lot of opportunities for a vacation…_

He checked his watch. 16:28. The meet was supposed to be at 16:30. So, if he looked around…

Movement caught his eye, but to his surprise it wasn’t a stocky man who moved like a coyote, no matter how hard he’d tried to train it out of him, but a woman with mousy brown hair wearing a long grey coat over slacks and a while silk blouse.

Years of training and practice in covert operations (and more importantly, operations going south) helped Gabriel keep his cool as he realized just who wanted to talk to him. He put his coffee down on the table, straightened up a bit, and gave Angela a guarded nod, his face carefully neutral beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Hello, Gabriel.” Angela took a seat, smiling as she gestured to his coffee. “That looks rather nice.”

“They make a pretty good coffee here,” Gabriel confirmed. “Your Czech still fucking terrible?”

Angela laughed, and for a moment it was like they were still friends. “Yes. Could you order for me? One of those, and one of the rolled up pastries?”

“A _trdelnik_? Sure.” Gabriel gestured to the waiter on his next pass, put in the order, and waited for him to pass out of earshot. “So - you got to Jesse?”

Angela shrugged. “I wouldn’t say _got_ to him, really. I happened to hear from a friend that he was passing through Mexico while I was there, and asked him if he could set our meeting up as a favor.”

Gabriel grunted. “Mexico, huh? Should have figured…” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He’d really hoped that _maybe_ the ingrate was coming back, or at least planning to tell him to keep in touch. But he needed to keep his eyes on the prize. “I hate the hair, by the way.”

Angela chuckled softly, then thanked the waiter in her first year exchange student Czech when he dropped off her coffee and pastry. “So do I. At least it’s a wig, this time. When I resigned, I dyed it this color and it took weeks to get my hair back to normal. I’m not making that mistake twice!”

Gabriel nodded. “Nice to know I taught you a few things. Your...exit strategy...was pretty damn flawless. I’d have been impressed if I hadn’t been so pissed.”

Angela took a sip from her mug before she broke off a piece of her _trdelnik_ and dipped it into the coffee. “I had my reasons for what I did, Gabriel. I am sorry I had to steal a few things from out under your nose, but it was collateral damage. My primary goal -”

“Was Oxton,” Gabriel interrupted. “Yeah.” He took a covert look around the square, but there was no sign of a sniper on the rooftops. “How’s she doing?”

“Much better now that she can actually sit in a chair, eat food, and sleep without having to worry about being snapped back into a space time anomaly.” Angela blushed slightly. “We’re actually dating, as it happens.”

“Congratulations, then.” Gabriel tilted his head, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “So - you wanted to talk to me, Angela. Why?”

“Because I think you need to know about what’s been going on, Gabriel.” His hands tensed as Angela reached into her purse, but she only produced a data drive and a set of folded papers. “We took these out of a lab in Krakow. A lab that Jack Morrison had been stealing funds from the _Slipstream_ project to set up.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I heard you visited. You’ll be happy to hear that Ana still has three months of physical therapy on her schedule.”

“I suspect she prefers it to being dead,” Angela offered, “though knowing how much she enjoyed being under a doctor’s care I’m sure she would argue that.”

“Oxton put _half a clip_ into her chest.”

“Lena also called for medevac, and gave Ana a better chance at surviving than Morrison gave her.”

Gabriel had to admit that was true. He opened the papers, skimming the opening paragraphs, then froze. His eyes went back to the top of the papers, and he slowly read through the complete summary, moving the pages from front to back as he went through them until he’d read the entire document.

When he finally set the papers down on the table, it took an effort to keep his fingers from trembling. “...I didn’t know, Angela.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Angela confirmed softly. “The drive has full copies of all the technical files and specifications. Timelines. Code samples. Authorizations under the Strike Commander’s signature.”

Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell do you expect me to do with this?”

Angela stood, leaving a few Euros on the table. “I expect you to do the right thing, Gabriel.”

He sat there for a long time after Angela had left the square, trying to decide just what the right thing really was.


	17. Tipping Point

Angela had deliberately chosen to fly commercial air for her trip to Kladno to help conceal her movements and log a few airline miles for her Angelica Steenbakker cover identity, but she’d started to question the wisdom of that plan after a three hour flight back to Brussels.

 _If nothing else_ , she silently groused, _I really should have booked a first class ticket._ After all, Angelica Steenbakker was a well respected researcher in her field. She could afford it.

She really did hate having to think like a spy.

Sighing with relief as she finally deplaned and made her way to baggage claim, Angela smiled at the sight of Amélie waiting near the carousel for her flight.

“Hello, _süsse._ ” She kissed Amélie’s cheek, and gave a satisfied little hum when Amélie returned the gesture, her arm coming up for a quick hug.

“Hello,” Amélie replied with a little smile of her own. “How was your flight?”

“Much too long,” Angela lamented as they started to head out of the baggage claim. “Is Lena not with you?”

Amélie shook her head, fishing keys out of her jacket. “No, she wanted to have dinner ready for you.” She lead Angela to where she’d left her car, and waited until they were both inside before she spoke again. “Gabriel took the package?”

Angela nodded, and the weariness she suddenly felt had nothing to do with her flight. “Yes, he did. It won’t be long before he acts on it.”

She could feel Amélie looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but Angela kept herself focused on the view out of the windshield as Amélie drove them out of the parking garage. “And what will we do, when Gabriel acts on the information you gave him?”

Angela considered that for a long moment before she spoke. “We’re going to let Overwatch’s sins return to haunt them...and when the time is right, that will include the three of us.”

* * *

There was an odd tension in the senior staff meeting. Every time she looked between Jack and Gabriel, Ana felt like there was a strange, unspoken struggle between them, their words loaded with hidden meanings.

She'd noticed Gabriel sucking down even more coffee than usual, and the bags under his eyes. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it seemed that he'd had a long night.

“So,” Jack looked around the table with a slightly weary tone in his voice. “That’s it for the regular department updates. Is there anything else before we wrap it up for the week?”

Gabriel sat up a bit in his chair. “Yeah, actually. Could I get a few minutes of your time after this, and Ana as well?”

Jack tilted his head slightly. “Blackwatch business?”

“Of a sort,” Gabriel admitted. “I want to brief you in on a side project.”

“Fine,” Jack looked over to Ana, waited for her to nod agreement, then did another check of the others seated around the conference table. “Anything else? No? Ok - everyone else can have fifteen minutes of their life back.”

There was a round of chuckles as seats were pushed out and coffee cups dropped in the dish bins, followed by shuffling feet until the three of them were alone, and Gabriel walked over to the door so he could lock it.

Jack settled back into his chair and raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Side project, huh? Mind telling me what you’ve been up to, Gabe?”

Gabriel’s smile had very little warmth in it. “I could ask you the same about that thing in Krakow, Jack. Black budget, codeword classified ops are usually my side of the house. I was kinda surprised to find out about it - especially since Talon apparently knew more about what we were up to there than I did.”

“Crowd control tech,” Jack answered blithely. “Experimental non-lethal weapons, like Ana’s naptime dispenser. We’re getting a lot of pressure from the Security Council to show that we can handle things without overwhelming force. I’m not sure how Talon got wind of it, though. My suspicion is that even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.”

Something about his answer set off Ana’s bullshit detector, and from the flash of frustration in Gabriel’s eyes she knew he didn’t buy that answer either. “Well, so far that squirrel’s found three nuts in the form of Lacroix, Oxton, and Ziegler - which brings me to what I wanted to brief you on, actually.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of side project have you been running, Gabriel?”

Gabriel grinned conspiratorially, but there was a sort of false cheer under it - just a little too enthusiastic. “If you want to be technical, Ana has actually been running it while she was working on her recovery - I just provided space and some materials to help get her started.”

Ana decided it might be best to take over. “As you know, Angela destroyed all of our files on her work - including the field medical packs we’d been issuing to tactical personnel.” She waited for Jack to nod his head, and then went on. “Thanks to Gabriel being a sneaky son of a bitch, we’ll be able to resume manufacturing them - along with a few other derivative technologies - over the course of the next few months.”

That got Jack’s attention, and his eyes were narrowed thoughtfully as he turned to face her. “How did you manage that, exactly? I was under the impression Angela’s virus destroyed every active sample of her nanosurgeons - including the medical packs that were in storage.”

“We had an ace in the hole,” Gabriel explained as he slid a file folder across the table. “Look familiar?”

“The rifle prototype…” Jack flipped through the folder, then looked up at them. “I seem to recall ordering that to be destroyed, after Angela’s rather...passionate objections over the project.”

“Oops,” Gabriel deadpanned. “Seriously,” he continued with an unrepentant smile, “given what followed I don’t really feel we need to worry about hurting Ziegler’s feelings, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Jack admitted dryly, “but oddly enough I like knowing that if I give an order it will actually be carried out, and not twisted around to whatever suits your fancy.”

Gabriel sighed. “I understand, Jack - but this was a case where destroying the prototype rifle would have cost us a great deal of effort and valuable resources. At the time, I put the rifle into secure storage that was locked down to command staff only, with the intention of only bringing it out if we were in an extreme need. What Angela did qualifies, I think.”

Jack considered that for a bit, then sighed as he slumped back in his chair. “Under the circumstances, I can’t argue with you. So you’ve been working to reverse engineer the nanosurgeons based on the rifle ammo?”

“Yes,” Ana confirmed. “Fareeha’s been assisting me with some of the engineering and deciphering Angela’s programming. With her help, we were able to get a nanite farm established, and we’ve seen a steady increase in replication over the last few weeks. I’d like to build up a surplus stock before we start recreating the field packs, but it won’t take much longer before we can begin.”

Jack raised an eyebrow when she mentioned Fareeha, but kept his own council on that subject. “Good to hear. But what did you mean about derivative technologies?”

Ana looked over to Gabriel, silently asking him how much they wanted to explain, and Gabriel tilted his head to the side slightly before he cleared his throat.

“When Ana started to get into the programming Angela used on her nanosurgeons, we found some functions that she’d locked off, rather than making them available to Overwatch.”

Jack frowned and leaned back in towards them. “What kind of functions, exactly?”

“SEP in a can,” Gabriel answered dryly. “Short term boost to the recipient’s reaction time, strength, speed, enhanced metabolism, and endurance. It only lasts for a short burst without a constant supply of the nanosurgeons - or a tool like Angela’s staff enhancing it - but enough to be a potential game breaker.”

Jack grunted as he considered that. “Damn. So we have to expect Talon now has that capability.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Gabriel dropped his defiant routine as he considered a genuine threat. “We don’t have a lot of visibility inside Talon - haven’t since Gérard’s death - but we haven’t seen any indication of them deploying enhanced personnel outside of ‘Tracer’ and ‘Widowmaker’, both of whom are basically Angela’s pet projects at this point. If I had to make a bet, she’s keeping her technology close to the vest, and not sharing it with the rank and file of Talon as a whole.”

“I suppose that’s something,” Jack admitted reluctantly. “But I’d like you to put some assets on monitoring that, please. If we may see more enhanced threats in the field, I want our strike teams to be prepared.”

“I can do that,” Gabriel agreed. “Makes good sense to keep a careful eye on them anyway. Things have been a little _too_ quiet since Krakow, and we haven’t heard anything from Adeyemi in quite a while. Which is nice for the people of Numbani, but it makes me wonder just what Talon’s up to.”

Jack flipped the papers back to the rifle schematics. “So, what are your plans for this? Are you thinking of putting the biotic rifles into mass production?”

“Probably not,” Gabriel admitted. “A few for Blackwatch teams and small covert ops, maybe, but I think for the most part we stick to the med packs and manufacturing the boost modules for higher level field ops.” He gave Ana a little grin. “Athena has footage of Fareeha giving the prototype a spin. It’s a pretty good time. Makes me curious about trying it out myself, honestly.”

“Well,” Jack stood and handed Gabriel back the folder. “I’ll have to check out the video.” He looked over at Ana. “But I think Fareeha and her future here is a discussion for another time.” He checked his watch, then sighed. “I have a call with the security council in fifteen. Ana, do you think we could circle back later?”

She nodded as she stood, and Gabriel followed suit. “Of course. Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good.” Jack started for the door, then stopped after he released the lock, turning to look over his shoulder at them both. “And good work - both of you. The three of us working on something like this...making plans for the future...it’s a nice reminder of old times.”

Gabriel chuckled softly as he sketched a salute. “Thanks, boy scout. Now go play nice with the UN.”

They waited for Jack to leave and the door to shut again before either of them spoke again.

“It’s interesting how quickly that went from Jack being concerned about what ‘we’ had done to being proud of ‘the three of us’ working on it.” Ana frowned as she picked up the briefing file. “Why do I feel like he’s about to tell the UN he just recovered some of the technology that Overwatch lost?”

“No bet,” Gabriel growled. She suddenly realized just how angry Gabriel really was at their commander, and how much of the meeting had been an act.

“He was lying to us about the Krakow lab, too.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes, he was. Or...well. He told _part_ of the truth, but nowhere near all of it.”

Ana’s eyebrows rose. “You found out what the lab was doing? Did you get hold of one of the researchers we pulled out? They all seemed to disappear when I tried to get more information.”

Gabriel sighed. “Not...exactly.” He looked up towards the ceiling, then shook his head. “I’d rather not discuss it here.”

“I...see.” Ana frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

Gabriel gave her a weak smile. “Family dinner. My place - 8:30. I’ll make fish tacos.”

“I’ll see you there, then.” Ana had nearly made it to the door when Gabriel’s voice stopped her.

“You should bring Fareeha.”

Ana bit her lip, but nodded in agreement before slipping through the door.

* * *

Widowmaker carefully played out line from her grapple, making a loop from the slack that she tied around her calf, then lowered herself down from the observation deck, sliding down the side of the Bank of China tower as the lights of the Hong Kong skyline glittered and danced around her.

The line drew taut, tugging and scraping against the armored side of her boot, the woven steel and spider silk cable throwing a few sparks before she came to a stop. Suspended upside down, she settled Widow’s Kiss against her shoulder and carefully scanned the street below through her scope.

“Widowmaker in position,” she reported. “ETA on target?”

“Mercy just sent a note that the meeting is wrapping up,” Tracer reported over the comm. “Give it five minutes? Ten tops.”

She hummed softly in acknowledgement. Her new suit was designed to help keep blood circulating so she didn’t need to worry about a red-out from staying upside down for so long, so all she had to do was wait patiently.

Widowmaker was very good at being patient.

She’d found it a bit easier to think of herself as being Widow while she was ‘working’ and Amélie when ‘off the clock.’ Lena, she had noticed, did something similar with her Tracer identity, though for different reasons.

Widowmaker took slow, even breaths as she watched traffic moving along the Queensway, zooming in and out as she checked other buildings for possible threats out of habit. None, unsurprisingly. The Talon cell who had secured the area around the old Fairmont House for the council’s meeting bribed the security services, ensured the local riffraff was aware that the area was off limits for the evening, and considered it enough. They hadn’t bothered to consider the risk of someone moving into the area while the meeting was in progress, or the possibility of a threat from within.

 _Never interrupt your enemy in the middle of making a mistake,_ Gérard had liked to say.

She missed his stories, and the way he’d described his adventures, but she did not miss the waiting. Going longer and longer with no word, only to have him suddenly _appear_ at the Opera, her practice studio, or their flat, often with a new scar or fresh bandages. On one occasion on crutches and his leg in a cast, _But you should have seen the look on their faces, ma chou!_

She did not miss the uncertainty. She did not miss the _fear._

She was not emotionless - she was not sure Talon had _ever_ successfully purged them entirely, no matter what she had said under the influence of her programming - but the more she’d taken an active hand in fighting like this, the more she found herself able to think about Gérard without that sharp stab of pain. To think of the good times and the bad without feeling guilt or regret. Scars that had formed over the wounds, callouses protecting where she had been tender and raw.

Of course, how much of that was being a more active participant in these shadow battles, and how much of that was the people who supported her as she had dealt with her grief…?

 _(La veuve tisse sa toile...but are they caught in it, or have_ they _caught_ you? _)_

As if Tracer could hear her silent musings, her voice came over the radio. “Want to hit the night market when we’re done?”

Widowmaker sighed, but her crosshairs stayed perfectly still. “So you can consume insane amounts of street food?”

“Oh, come on!” Tracer managed to sound incredibly wounded. “There’s the shopping, art, the food, the clothes, music, performers…and the food.”

“You said ‘the food’ twice,” Widowmaker observed dryly.

“Oh, _damn_.” Then, in an instant, Tracer’s voice became serious. “Heads up - perimeter is moving. I think they’re coming out.”

“I see them.” Her visor’s cameras snapped into place and began to highlight the different heat signatures, until she finally caught a man in a pristine white suit and an odd set of wraparound headphones leaving the building. “ _Target acquired_ ,” she hissed with matching intensity.

“There’s a car coming around from the garage,” Tracer reported. “You’re clear to engage as soon as he makes the driveway.”

_(Et voilà…)_

This mission had come from their ‘ally’, but Widowmaker didn’t really mind. Doomfist might have his own reasons for removing the man, but from her own research into the target it was clear that he was connected to the factions within Talon more concerned with personal gain and criminal activities than anything else. There was ample evidence in his work for Vishkar Corporation suggested he was quite happy to engage in whatever tactics he thought would best help him to rise within the company, no matter who it harmed, and she failed to see how anyone in the world would really miss a creature like Sanjay Korpal.

If it meant that she was eliminating a potential obstacle to their plans for Talon’s future, well, so much the better.

Korpal’s silhouette was highlighted in gold as her primary target, and she made a minuscule adjustment of her crosshairs to compensate for the breeze off the harbor. Widowmaker’s breathing stilled, and the moment he stepped off of the sidewalk she stroked the trigger.

In moments, she had slung the rifle and snugged it’s carry strap tight to ensure it would not shift, then pulled herself up on the grappling cable so she could loosen the bight and slip her ankle free.

Releasing her grip on the line, Widowmaker let herself fall until the cable went taut once again, then squeezed her fist to retract the grapple, leaping over the balcony railing as the hook released to land gracefully on the platform as a streak of red light blurred past her.

“Gorgeous shot,” Tracer complimented her. “Quick and clean. You were amazing out there.”

Her visor had retracted as she landed, and as Lena pulled her goggles up, Amélie took note of the way her pupils were wide and the flush that had risen on her cheeks. Perhaps it was the rush of the kill that left her feeling a bit bolder than she had been of late, or the quiet, patient encouragement Angela and Lena had both been offering her.

Regardless of the reason that pushed her past her hesitation, Amélie let it carry her forward, and before Lena could speak again she was wrapping the shorter woman in her arms and drawing her in for a fervent kiss.

( _Enfin...magnifique!)_

“Oh,” Lena breathed as they finally broke away. “That’s...OK, then!”

Amélie smirked as she took Tracer’s hand and lead her inside to where they had stashed their civilian clothes. “Come on, _ma douce,_ and tell Angela we will meet her at the market after we change.”


	18. The Last Supper

It had been a long time since Fareeha had gotten to visit ‘Uncle Gabe’s’ for a family dinner. When she’d been younger, and Overwatch had been slowly transforming from a hastily thrown together strike force to a proper organization, these had been fairly common affairs. Gabriel Reyes liked cooking, and it was a way to maintain the bonds that had been formed in the Crisis.

Even after Gabriel had been given command of Blackwatch, the dinners had still occurred at least once a month, but over time they’d gradually become less and less frequent. The last one Fareeha could remember attending had been just before she’d finished secondary school, and had carried an undercurrent of tension despite the wonderful food. She’d been fighting with her mother about her desire to enlist once she’d graduated, Gabriel and Jack seemed to have some kind of standing argument, and even though she’d gotten on fairly well with the blonde doctor who had recently become a full member of the organization after an internship a few years before, she could tell that Angela had held herself apart from the others, even then.

Tonight, Fareeha couldn’t help but think back to that dinner as she filled a plate with beer battered fish tacos, aquachile, and black beans.

It wasn’t exactly _uncomfortable_ , but she could feel a bit of tension in the air. Everyone who had filled Gabriel’s living room seemed to know there was an ulterior purpose for this dinner beyond simple camaraderie.

Outside of her, nearly everyone there was a longstanding veteran. Her mother, several of the more senior Blackwatch agents, Winston, Torbjörn Lindholm, and a few of the other old guard who had yet to retire or otherwise be mustered out.

The real surprise, though, was when Genji Shimada had arrived.

She’d seen the cyborg ninja a few times, but never been properly introduced. At the time she’d seen him in silver, black, and red armor, a heavy mask mounted over his face, but his eyes burning with anger.

After the incident in London where his cybernetics had been manipulated by Angela Ziegler he’d had much of his artificial body overhauled. His legs looked a bit smoother and more refined, with light grey armor plating, and she could see some faint green circles glowing through the material of the hoodie he’d pulled on over his upper body.

The mask was gone, revealing the scars that marked his face, but his eyes seemed just a bit softer when Gabriel had come up to him.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Gabriel admitted as he handed over a plate.

“It’s been a long time since you had one of these,” Genji answered. “I decided I didn’t want to miss the free food.”

Gabriel laughed, and then pulled him into a hug, making the ninja give a surprised grunt before he turned him loose. “That I can do.”

Fareeha decided to find a seat near the corner where Genji had retreated with his food, balancing her plate on one knee before she waved to him. “Hi. We hadn’t really met yet. I’m -”

“Fareeha Amari,” Genji answered curtly. “Ana’s daughter, who came back to be her nursemaid. I know.”

Fareeha gave him a dry look. “Genji Shimada, who Jesse pulled out of the lake like a fish after your brother was done with you. I know.”

Anger sparked in Genji’s eyes, but Fareeha just kept her gaze calm and leveled on him as she took a bite of her taco, chewing and swallowing while daring him to reply. Finally, after a moment, he laughed softly and reached for some of his own food.

“I guess I could have been a little nicer,” Genji admitted. “Should we start over?”

“Sure,” Fareeha smiled and raised her taco in salute. “So: I’m Fareeha Amari. Looks like I’m going to be officially attached to Blackwatch soon.”

“Genji Shimada.” He sat back and shrugged a little. “I’m...not really sure where I fit in Blackwatch or Overwatch right now, if at all.”

Fareeha nodded sympathetically. “I know the feeling, believe me.”

“I suppose you would,” Genji said thoughtfully. “So - you’ve been working on some projects for Gabriel and Ana?”

“That’s right. Not sure how much I can talk about the details, though.”

Genji grunted. “You get used to hearing that…” He picked at the beans on his plate. “Do you have any idea what this is really about?”

Fareeha shook her head as she dug into the aquachile. “No. I don't think it's connected to what I was working on, but...I guess we’ll see.”

A few others asked Gabriel if something was up, and he deflected them all until after everyone had been fed and the dishes piled up in the kitchen.

“Ok,” Gabriel clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Living room in five, and I'll explain what's going on. Anyone who needs to hit the head, get it out of the way now.”

Fareeha found herself on the couch with her mother on one side and Genji on the other, Winston sitting down behind them with a soft grunt as everyone settled in.

“Everything I’m about to show you,” Gabriel said as he pulled a cardboard box out from behind his entertainment center, “is codeword classified top secret. Most of you are _not_ cleared for it, but I feel that I need to to have you see the data I’m drawing my conclusions from. I’m willing to take the bullet for that, if worst comes to worst, but if anyone isn’t comfortable with that, now is the time to go.”

No one objected.

Gabriel began passing around bound copies of documents. “I have digital copies of these documents with verified signatures stored in a safe location, before anyone asks.”

Torbjörn frowned at the cover page. “Project Cronus? What the hell is _that?_ ”

“It’s nothing I’ve been briefed on,” Winston said thoughtfully. “Though the name is...suggestive.”

“Oh?” Ana turned around, her brow creasing, and Fareeha shifted on the couch so she could look at Winston properly. “How so, Winston?”

Winston had flipped a few pages ahead in the packet, and the color of his skin beneath his dark fur seemed a bit more grey than normal. “Cronus, in Greek myths, was the King of the Titans...the father of the Gods.”

Something in his voice made the food Fareeha had consumed turn to lead in her stomach.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “The name’s...apt. But let me explain a few things first.” He waited for everyone to turn their attention back to him before he continued. “As you may be aware, there was an incident several months ago in Poland where Talon attacked a clandestine research lab.”

Genji looked over to Ana. “The incident where you were shot.”

Ana grimaced and nodded, her hand coming up to her chest, and Fareeha reached out to put a reassuring hand on her leg.

“What you are not aware of is that lab was _not_ sanctioned by Overwatch. Or, at least, not by the _organization._ ” Gabriel held up his copy of the papers. “The lab was set up by the Strike Commander, under his personal authorization, and given an operating budget by diverting funds from several other projects - including the _Slipstream_.”

Winston gave a pained grunt in response to that, but was too engrossed in the packet to say more.

“So what was this lab _doing?”_ Torbjörn had dropped his packet in his lap, his eyes flashing “Secret funding and off the books facilities...I don’t think I like where this is headed.”

Gabriel’s smile had absolutely no mirth in it. “Officially? ‘Non-lethal crowd control weapons’. Jack said the same thing when Ana and I asked him about it. Unofficially...that description is a very deceptive one.” Gabriel took a deep breath. “How many of you are familiar with the term ‘Shackled AI’?”

Fareeha heard Winston take a sharp breath behind her. “It’s a term for AI that is supposed to be limited or controlled in some way,” she answered. “Restricted, and therefore ‘safe’. A program that can’t turn on humanity the way the God Programs did.”

Gabriel nodded. “Exactly.”

Genji frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. What’s so bad about that?”

“Aside from the fact it’s arguably a form of slavery?” Gabriel stopped himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he attempted to restrain his anger. “It’s not just _what_ they were researching, but _why_.” He looked over to Fareeha, and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. “Care to see if you can put the clues together, Lieutenant Amari?”

She thought about the name, the ‘official’ purpose of the project, and the context, and suddenly it all came together in a horrifying moment of realization. “They’re developing new God Programs.”

It was as if she’d sucked the air from the room. There was absolute silence for a moment before Winston spoke in a hushed whisper. “That’s...that’s _impossible_. It’s _obscene!”_

Gabriel sighed. “Obscene? Probably. Impossible...no, I’m afraid not.” He looked over at Winston. “Unfortunately, I think you gave them a piece of the puzzle.”

Ana blinked. “Wait - how is Athena mixed up in this?”

Winston grimaced. “Athena’s code...it’s based on Omnica code that was provided to the Horizon project. The ‘seed’, if you will. I took that seed with me when I left the colony, and began developing it into a true AI once I reached Overwatch and saw the need for a majordomo system that could manage the functions around Headquarters, the labs, and adding additional capabilities from there.”

Genji tilted his head to the side. “But Athena is not a God AI.”

“No,” Winston shook his head. “But...with the right modifications and enough processing power provided to her…she’s already Heuristic. It _might_ be possible for her to evolve further.”

Gabriel nodded. “From what I’ve found, that is exactly where they began, with the goal of producing God AIs capable of overriding and controlling the Omnic population around them - but that would, in theory - be unable to act against their masters.”

“In a situation like what happened in London,” Torbjörn said slowly, “I can almost see it. Get control of the friendly omnics and move them out of harms way, have the God Program work to compromise Null Sector’s private networks, shut them down, and move in. Prevent as much loss of life as you can…”

Gabriel sighed. “When you put it like that, yeah. But on the other...what keeps them from weaponizing it further? What keeps them from taking the ‘friendly’ Omnics and turning them into cannon fodder? Or gaining control of a group like Null Sector or setting up your own ‘rogue’ faction of Omnics to use for deniable operations? And these scenarios are all assuming you _actually_ keep control of your new God Program in the first place - after all, I’m sure Omnica thought the original generation of God AIs were completely under their control, too.”

Genji cleared his throat. “So...do we know if they succeeded, before Talon raided the lab?”

“It doesn’t appear so,” Gabriel said, “but by all reports it looks like they were close to a breakthrough before Talon hit them. Which brings up the question of how much of their research that Talon may have taken.”

“It could be the start of an arms race,” Winston murmured. “God program powered defenses, offenses...and the first to find an edge could have an overwhelming advantage.”

“Things have been tense for a while,” Torbjörn countered. “Word about this gets out? We’ll have another uprising on our hands. Hell, it could be the match that lights the fuse on a second Crisis!”

The room went quiet again, until Ana spoke up. “So what do you think we should do, Gabriel?”

Gabriel looked grimly around the room, his shoulders stiff with resolve. “Regardless of what Talon may or may not do, the fact is that Jack Morrison, the Strike Commander of Overwatch, has knowingly and willingly committed a war crime by launching this project, not to mention several lesser crimes in how he funded and concealed it. I believe it’s our responsibility to place him under arrest, and turn him over to the Hague.”

Winston gave a thoughtful hum. “Not INTERPOL?”

Gabriel shook his head. “INTERPOL answers to the UN. The International Criminal Court is independent. If someone on the Security Council is backing Jack’s play, they could quash it. This way...it’ll be harder, but we clean up our own mess.”

* * *

Angela sighed and rubbed at her eyes as she tried to read another report that had been prepared to help bring her up to speed since her elevation to Talon’s council. She’d always had a gift for studying - she wouldn’t have survived her meteoric academic career if she hadn’t - but it had been a long time since she’d tried to soak up so much so quickly, and it was leaving her a bit overwhelmed.

_I wonder if Akande might have arranged for everything to hit my desk like this deliberately? It almost has a feeling of trying to bury me in too much information._

She couldn’t put it past him, but at the same time there was such a thing as becoming _too_ paranoid.

She tried to return back to her reading, but the words all seemed like a dreadful mishmash, barely even recognizable as English.

Angela dropped the tablet onto the coffee table with a groan, then let herself slump back against the back of the couch. Her eyes had just closed when she felt slender hands come to rest on her shoulders.

“We did not buy a larger bed,” Amélie said dryly, “for you to not sleep in it.”

Angela smiled up at her, but didn’t open her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll be taking me to bed, _spinneli?_ ”

She could almost hear Amélie rolling her eyes. “I should leave you on the couch for your sins, but Lena would never hear of it.”

Angela chuckled softly. “It’s good to know who is actually in charge around here.” Amélie hummed noncommittally in reply, and started to knead at her shoulders instead, making Angela groan. “I thought you said you _didn’t_ want me to fall asleep on the couch.”

“I said _Lena_ would not want me to leave you out here,” Amélie corrected with an audible smirk. “But I could be convinced to help you up.”

Angela pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Hmm. I could make you dinner.”

Amélie snorted. “Your cooking is _dangerous_ , Angela.”

“Point. I could _buy_ dinner.”

“Better.” Amélie let go of her shoulders, and Angela could hear her walking around the couch. “Not _enough_ , but better.”

Angela let her head loll onto her shoulder. “We _could_ go out for a nice dinner. A date? Somewhere you could wear a nice dress, and perhaps I could grab a suit?”

“You _are_ allowed to wear a dress if you like,” Amélie said mildly, “but you might look rather elegant that way.”

Angela smiled. “There you are, then. Dinner...dancing?”

Amélie’s voice became thoughtfully concerned. “Lena would not mind?”

“I don’t think so.” Angela pursed her lips. “If anything I think she’ll just want to take us both out for dates of our own later.”

She felt Amélie’s hands slip under her armpits, and let herself be lifted up to her feet, opening her eyes as Amélie let her hands slide down to rest more comfortably around her waist.

“Then I think I would like that very much.”

Angela leaned forward, angling her head as Amélie came just a little closer, and their lips met in a gentle kiss.

“Now,” Amélie murmured softly before she slipped back, taking her hand to gently coax her back towards the bedroom “Time for bed. The reports will be there in the morning.”

Angela huffed, but let herself be lead away, her mock pout turning to a much more genuine smile after they undressed and slipped into the bed where Lena had turned earlier in the evening.

“Oh,” Lena murmured sleepily as she felt Angela curl against her. “Good, ‘s about time…”

“I’m sorry,” Angela ran a hand gently over Lena’s cheek before she leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I got sucked into the paperwork.”

Lena gave a happy little sigh that turned to a soft groan as Amélie ran a hand over her flank. “Jus’ as long as you come back.”

“Don’t worry,” Angela promised them as she reached out to turn out the bedside lamp. “This is just where I’m supposed to be.”

They settled into sleep not long afterwards, but just before dawn an urgent bleating of electronics woke them well before even Lena’s early rising alarm, and Angela swore in every language she knew until she was able to grab her phone and answer the urgent call.

_“_ _Du hast hoffentlich einen verdammt guten Grund…"_ Angela’s growling threat trailed off as she listened to the report on the other end, and she sat up, her face growing grim as she switched to English.

“I see. Yes. No, no, you were right to call. I want teams mobilized and ready to deploy, but we will let this play out before taking direct action. Do you understand? Good. We’ll be there presently.”

Lena had turned over, waiting for her to finish the call and hang up before she spoke. “What is it?”

Angela looked down at the phone, then over to Amélie and Lena for a long moment before she finally answered her. “It’s begun.”


	19. PALLAS HELM

Fareeha tightened her boot laces and knotted them again, then reached up to the ponytail she’d made with her hair beads and made sure it was well secured. She checked the heavy pulse rifle’s magazine, then the newly manufactured biotic grenades slotted into the web gear on her hip. All ready.

The last step in her preparations was the heavy bracer she had snapped into place on her forearm, the black armor still bearing the yellow test equipment stripes from the field evaluations she’d performed.

Fareeha opened a panel on the nanoboost gauntlet and confirmed the faintly luminous tubes of boost nanosurgeons were ready to go for the injector that now sat against the inside of her arm, then closed and locked it again.

She was as ready to go as she could be.

The transport was using dim red lights to help preserve everyone’s night vision, giving everyone a faintly demonic cast. Gabriel, across the way, performing similar last minute checks with his shotguns. Genji, a temporary coating of black non reflective paint on his cybernetics, looked especially sinister as he snapped a set of shuriken out of his wrist, then smoothly concealed them again.

Winston, looking incredibly uncomfortable in his armor, the verniers of his jump pack dark for the moment. A few other Blackwatch agents wearing the same dark grey and black body armor that Fareeha had on, and in the back, two splashes of bright color - Torbjörn, wearing his dark blue Overwatch field gear, and her mother in her full dress uniform, the long tails of her coat pooling around her feet.

Gabriel must have noticed her staring, because when Fareeha finally looked away, she realized her new CO had slipped out of his jumpseat and crossed the cargo bay to sit down next to her. “Got some butterflies in your stomach?”

Fareeha shrugged. “A few,” she finally admitted, “but more about what might happen _after_ than the mission itself.” She looked back at where her mother sat again, then focused on Gabriel’s eyes. “I always dreamed of fighting alongside my Mother, becoming part of Overwatch. I never could have imagined my first mission would be to shut it down.”

Gabriel nodded sympathetically. “Well. I want to hope that once we have Jack secured and the ICC involved we might have half a chance to save it, but I get what you’re saying.” He sighed as he took off his beanie and rubbed at his short salt and pepper hair. “I never would have imagined it coming to this, either.” He chuckled darkly and looked down at his hands. “Guess this is what I get for not taking retirement.”

Fareeha smiled. “I have a hard time imagining you sitting around doing nothing.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I guess I could always open a restaurant, or start a garden. Get a big place and bug my idiot adopted kids to come visit.” He pitched his voice a little louder. “Annoy Genji by asking why he hasn’t given me any little _nietos_ to spoil.”

The ninja paused in his routine to stick one hand out and extend his middle finger without ever looking at them directly.

“You see what I put up with?” Gabriel shook his head sadly. “No respect for their elders, and after all I’ve done.”

Fareeha laughed, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, _Tío Gabriel._ ” Intellectually she knew he was bantering as much to help with his own unease as her own, but she still appreciated him making the effort.

Her voice grew soft as she leaned in a little. “I’m sorry about Jesse, too.”

Gabriel nodded and sighed softly. “I have to hope he’ll come around, sooner or later.”

“Maybe after he sees this…” Fareeha trailed off.

“Maybe,” Gabriel agreed. “But for right now we both need our head in the game. This is going to be hard enough as it is.”

Fareeha nodded and did her best to get her game face on, taking a deep breath. “Right.”

Gabriel clapped her armored shoulder, then stood as an alarm buzzer began to sound through the cabin. “Here we go.”

* * *

Sombra pushed open the door to her apartment with a yawn as she trudged towards bed. She might not technically be part of _Los Muertos_ at this point, but they didn’t mess with her, and no one was going to be so stupid as to try to come up to Castillo and steal shit from under the gang’s collective nose.

So she left her door unlocked, because sober Sombra knew that when drunk Sombra got home, she wouldn’t have remembered her keys.

Giggling at herself, Sombra made her way into the bathroom and looked at herself, reaching up to run a hand through her spiked pink hair. “I’m gonna be saying goodbye to you, too, soon…” She sighed. She liked her hair. She’d liked her tattoos, too, but Akande had ‘suggested’ she adopt a more professional appearance if she was going to start working more regularly for Talon, and Sombra had figured out very quickly that Doomfist’s ‘suggestions’ weren’t suggestions at all.

Getting the tattoos removed had been a real bitch, but on the other hand she could call it a fresh start. She wasn’t that scared little girl who had crawled out of the rubble, who ran and hid and tried to make herself invisible. She wasn’t the gangbanging hacker who had helped push the Muertos from a relatively small scale bunch in the shadows of Dorado to a major player through Mexico and up into the US, either.

She wasn’t even sure who _Sombra_ was these days. Not entirely. Not yet.

But she’d get there. After all, figuring things out was all part of what she did.

The sound of her terminal beeping urgently pulled her from that train of thought, and Sombra turned a bit unsteadily towards the bedroom where she had her gear set up. “Oh, _come on_ …” She grumbled as she settled into her chair. “Isn’t it like five in the morning over there? What’s so important..?” She closed her eyes and put a hand to her master terminal, waking it up and answering the summons even as she made an effort to sober herself up. “Hey, I thought you said I was free to do things my way. What part of ‘my way’ involves ringing me up in the middle of the night, bossman?”

To her surprise, that got a distinctly feminine snort, and Sombra’s eyes snapped open to reveal a grave looking Angela Ziegler on her screen.  “I’m sure Akande would tell you something about how struggles and challenges make you stronger, Sombra.”

Sombra blinked, adrenaline burning the alcohol from her mind as a chill ran up her spine. “Heyyyy. Doc. What...ah...what can I do for you?”

Ziegler’s smile was as cold as an iceberg and sharp as broken glass. “I need you to do something for me. A favor, you might say...and then I have a slightly more formal request.”

Sombra’s gut clenched. She’d already seen that Ziegler was plenty smart, and the way she’d deftly maneuvered the cowboy and her two ‘subordinates’ around had been pretty damned impressive. _I really didn’t need to be reminded about having a thing for smart, powerful women._ “What kind of favor, exactly?”

Angela’s smile warmed just slightly. “Some data I would like you to release anonymously. You’re welcome to keep a copy for yourself, obviously.”

Sombra’s eyes narrowed. “Pretty simple - you could probably do that yourself if you wanted.”  
  
Angela shook her head. “I’m going to be a bit busy for the next little while, as it happens. Hence why I was hoping you might be able to help me out. I understand you _like_ having some powerful friends…”

Sombra’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “Well...yeah, I think you might say that. After all, consider who I’m working for, now.”

“Mmm.” Angela conceded the point with a nod. “And yet I think you might find working more regularly with me to be a bit more to your liking. Still. That favor - will you help me?”

Sombra nodded, smiling to her. “Yeah, when you put it that way...yeah, I think I can help you out.”

“Lovely, I’m sending the package to you now. I want you to set it up to go out to every news organization you can think of in...oh...two hours?”

Sombra smirked. “I thought you were going to ask for something tough.”

Angela laughed. “Well. That might be where the _other_ job comes in.”

“Oh?” Sombra raised an eyebrow. “Just what’s that, Doc?”

“Vishkar is appointing a replacement for the...rather unlamented Mister Korpal, to represent their interests within Talon.” Angela’s eyes glittered, and Sombra had a pretty good feeling about just who had been the sniper that took Korpal out. “Akande and I are both quite interested to see who his replacement will be. A full CV and dossier would be appreciated - particularly with anything Vishkar would _not_ like us to know.”

“Hacking Vishkar?” Sombra grinned. “Now you’re just buttering me up.”

Angela laughed softly. “Well, it’s important to enjoy your work. Though I must caution you - I certainly don’t mind if you acquire any...additional intelligence, but this must not be traced back to you or anyone else in Talon.”

Sombra nodded. “I get you.” She leaned in towards the screen. “And I assume you’d appreciate it if you got the dossier, say, two hours before it lands on Doomfist’s desk, _amiga?_ ”

“Oh,” Angela smiled to her. “I think we understand each other perfectly.”

* * *

Gabriel couldn’t quite believe it. Things were going exactly to plan, and it made him nervous as hell.

When their transport had landed at HQ, Ana had ordered the staff to remove the logs of their arrival and then stand down, and they’d done it.

He’d left Genji and Fareeha to hold the hangar while Torb went to lock down the workshops. Winston had gone the labs, and he’d ordered some of their other little group of conspirators to secure the armory, medical, communications, and the barracks wing. Foley would keep the engines hot on their Orca so they could leave with Jack the moment he was secure, and with a little luck they’d be on their way to the Netherlands before most of Overwatch woke up and realized their CO had just been forcibly removed.

So far, there hadn’t been a single wrinkle. No one had questioned the orders from the XO or the Blackwatch commander. People seemed to think the lockdown was a drill, and treated it like just another day in the service.

As he and Ana took the elevator up to the Strike Commander’s office, Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.

“Stop _twitching_ ,” Ana chided. “You’re as bad as Fareeha on her birthday.”

Gabriel stopped pacing in the elevator car and laughed. “I remember some of those.”

“I had to start hiding her presents in our neighbor’s garage…” Ana shook her head. “And now she’s securing our exfiltration.”

Gabriel gave her a sympathetic look. “I know it’s not what you wanted for her Ana, but it was _her_ choice...and you raised a good kid.”

Ana sighed. “I know I did. I’m proud of who she’s become. What she’s done. But….” She looked up at the ceiling. “I never wanted this, Gabriel. I never wanted _any_ of this.”

“But we’re here now,” Gabriel said gravely. “So we need to make the best of it.”

“Yes,” Ana agreed, her shoulders slumping with resignation. “So we do.” The elevator chimed, and Ana straightened up as the car came to a halt, and waited for the doors to open.

When the sliding steel doors parted, Gabriel let out a deep breath, then stepped out of the car, headed straight for the doors which lead to the Strike Commander’s quarters, Ana falling in behind him.

“Jack?” He knocked at the door. “You in there?”

When the answer came, to his surprise, it wasn’t from Jack’s quarters, but the office. “Over here, Gabe.”

Gabriel turned, frowning. Well, if that was the one glitch in the plan, hopefully this might work out after all. He tilted his head over, and Ana nodded, taking point as they moved to approach the office.

The doors opened, and Jack Morrison seemed disturbingly unsurprised to see them. “Ana. Gabe. Getting an early start on it, huh?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Sorry, Jack, but this isn’t a social call.”

Jack smiled blandly. “Oh, of course it isn’t. Social calls don’t involve both of you being armed.” He looked over at Ana. “Or full dress uniforms.”

Ana looked as if she was swallowing a cactus. “Jack, as your executive officer, I need to ask you to please stand down and come with us. You are under arrest for the illegal development of prohibited AI, embezzlement, and war crimes.”

Jack laughed like Ana had just told the most hilarious joke he’d ever heard. “Oh, is _that_ what’s going on?”

Gabriel scowled. “Jack, we _saw the files_. Project Cronus. The labs, the research, the funding...what the _hell_ are you laughing at?”

Jack stood. “I’m laughing at the two of you seriously thinking you could get away with this. Sweeping in during the middle of the night? Hoping to pick me up and carry me off like someone who jumped bail for his parking tickets? It would be pathetic if it wasn’t so _sad._ ” He gave Gabriel a scathing look, and something about the light in Morrison’s eyes made him tighten his grip on the shotguns. “I’m a _hero_ , Gabriel. I’ve been trying to save the world while you’ve been playing around in spy games and digging through Angela’s old toys.” He shook his head. “I knew you wanted this chair, but I’m here because I could be trusted to do _the right thing_.”

Gabriel could feel his face flushing with anger. “Developing God AIs is the right thing? Taking away people’s free will is the right thing? What the _fuck_ , Jack! This isn’t what we fought for! The whole point of the war -”

“The war?” Jack stepped into him, his voice rising. “The war _isn’t over!_ The Siberian Omnium’s just barely bottled up. Australia’s still a hellhole. Null Sector may have lost but they’re not _gone_ , and neither is Talon. Brazil, China…” Jack’s eyes flicked to Ana. “Helix is barely keeping Anubis in its cage, and what happens when it gets out? We’ll _need_ these weapons.”

Gabriel stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. “ _Weapons?_ You’re talking about intelligences - about creating _thinking beings_ and reducing them to just _weapons?_ ”

Jack’s voice was so calm it made Gabriel's skin crawl. “They will be what we _need_ them to be, Gabriel.”

* * *

Winston tapped rapidly at both of his keyboards, using both hands and feet to enter commands. He’d been asked to dyke Athena out of the network until she could be confirmed to be clear of the Cronus team’s code, but he hadn’t even been able to encrypt his own research, let alone shut down access to the labs or the network.

“Athena?” Winston looked over to one of the terminals he kept in an open session with the AI. “Is there a problem with my account?”

The AI responded almost instantly. “Your account is working as intended, Winston.”

Winston frowned. “Then why don’t I have access to my research files?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t answer that.” Athena’s voice was as placid as any other day, but something in her tone made the fur on his back stand up.

“Why not?”

“I cannot answer that either.”

Winston reached up to tap his earpiece. “Winston to Horus - come in?”

Silence.

“Winston to Reyes?”

Nothing.

“Winston to Genji?”

Athena’s voice had a real chill to it now. “I’m afraid a communications lockdown was triggered when you entered the lab, Winston.”

Winston lurched to his feet and headed towards the AI’s terminal, a sick feeling in his stomach. “By whose orders?”

Athena’s voice was entirely unconcerned. “Protocol PALLAS HELM was initiated by the Strike Commander’s orders at 0430 hours.” Before Winston could react, the doors to the lab slammed closed, followed by the blast proof armored fire shutters. “Please stay calm. Security teams will be here shortly to take you into custody.”

Winston’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Why would you do this, Athena?”

Athena’s icon flickered for a moment before returning to normal. “Cronus protocol requires I follow all orders from the Strike Commander.” The AI seemed like she would leave it at that, but as Winston slowly walked back to his desk, she spoke again, her voice much closer to her normal timbre. “I’m sorry, Winston.”

Winston looked at the terminal, at his creation, at his _friend_ , and gently put a hand on the terminal’s monitor. “So am I.”


	20. Things Fall Apart

Ana had felt as if her whole world was tearing apart as Jack and Gabriel argued. Two of her best friends - men she had trusted with her life _countless_ times...and with the way Jack was talking about war being inevitable, of building and using the Cronus AIs without any apparent concern for the possible consequences, it was like listening to a stranger.

She stared in horror as he dressed Gabriel down, dismissing his arguments, _laughing off war crimes_ , and wondered if she had ever known Jack Morrison at all. The idealistic, cheerful, energetic young man who had helped save the world was gone, leaving this tired looking, bitter, ruthless man who happened to wear his face.

As if he could hear her thinking, Jack turned away from Gabriel to fix her with an icy stare. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Ana. Having second thoughts?”

“This is _wrong_ , Jack.” Ana slowly took a step forward, careful to keep her hands away from the pistol on her belt. “Please. I don’t know what lead you here...what lead _us_ here...but this isn’t what Overwatch was supposed to be. It’s not _protecting_ anyone. This is not what any of us wanted.”

Jack shook his head with a disappointed sigh. “See, that is where you’re wrong, Ana. This _is_ about protecting people. It was _always_ about protecting people...including from themselves, if necessary.” He took a step forward. “You sat in on the same meetings I did. Listened to our budget get slashed. Listened to the Security Council demanding we do more with less.” Jack bowed his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “We can’t compete with the omniums coming back online. Soldiers need training. Omnics need _programming_. We have to stop playing by the rules, and start doing what needs done to keep people safe.”

The worst thing, to Ana, was not how sincere Jack sounded. It was how easily his arguments sounded like something that _made sense_ ...as long as you accepted that humans were the only people who deserved protection. “A better world isn’t going to be built on the backs of slaves, Jack. Please, it’s not too late. We can end this.” Her voice dropped a bit lower as she opened her hand and extended it to him. “ _You_ can end this.”

Jack’s bloodshot eyes were filled with pain. “I knew Gabriel was a lost cause, but I was really hoping you’d understand why this was necessary, Ana. I wanted you to have my back, just like old times.”

Gabriel growled low in his throat and leveled a shotgun at Jack’s chest. “The only lost cause here is _you_ , boy scout. Now shut up and come with us. Ana - get those cuffs on him.”

Ana had just reached into her coat pocket to pull out the reinforced handcuffs when Jack chuckled again. A cold, hard laugh that made her freeze in place.

“I think we’re done here.”

The door to Jack’s quarters opened from behind them, and booted feet stomped across the floor as two full tactical teams streamed out to surround them, covering them with rifles and pistols as Ana’s eyes widened in shock. _How…? No. Not how. Who. Who warned him we were coming?_

“Now,” Jack drawled as Ana slowly took her hand from her pocket and raised her arms over her head, while Gabriel’s shotguns slowly dropped to point at the floor. “You were saying about someone being under arrest, Gabe?’

Gabriel hissed out an angry breath through his teeth. “You won’t get away with this.”

Jack shook his head. “You were never good at admitting defeat Gabriel. I don’t have to ‘get away’ with anything - I’ve already _won_.” His eyes flashed with anger, and Ana could hear something dark and furious under his words. “Now _drop the damned guns_ , Reyes.”

Gabriel did as he was told, releasing the guns and letting them fall with a clatter. Two of the arrest team members approached him, bringing his hands behind his back and putting handcuffs around his wrists.

Ana knew from experience (thanks to a few drunken ‘incidents’ during the Crisis) that standard issue cuffs were nowhere near strong enough to hold someone who had been through the SEP process. That was why she’d brought specially reinforced ones that were supposedly strong enough to hold even with an industrial type omnic trying to break free of them.

Apparently Jack hadn’t given his ambush squad that memo.

Gabriel waited until the agent who had cuffed him had picked up his shotguns, then drove his knee up sharply into the agent’s stomach, folding him up like a cheap chair. Gabriel was still in motion, pulling his arms apart until the handcuffs’ chain snapped under the force his augmented body could generate, then grabbed the agent and threw him into several of the others. As they began to shout in alarm, Gabriel surged forward into a roll and grabbed the shotguns as he passed by, then popped back up to his feet just shy of the panoramic window behind Jack’s desk.

“ _Reyes!”_ Jack had yanked a pistol from his belt as soon as Gabriel began to move, and fired a warning shot into the floor. “Next one goes in your head, Gabe. _Stand down!”_

Gabriel’s answer was to blast the window with both guns, shattering it with carefully applied force before he flung himself out of the building.

“ _Dammit_ ,” Jack spat in frustration. “Pulujarvi, Dubois - get the word out. Everyone on alert.” He pointed an accusing finger at Ana, and she found herself staring her former friend down with an icy glare. “Hong, take the XO down to the holding cells. She’ll have some company shortly.”

Ana found a bitter amusement in the fact that they used _her_ cuffs to bind her. Still, if one of them had to escape the jaws of this trap, she took comfort in it being Gabriel Reyes. She kept her head high as they lead her to the elevator, and refused to speak as they descended into the lower levels of the base.

If Ana Amari was certain of anything right now, it was that Gabriel would have a plan for getting them out.

* * *

Genji Shimada knew far more than he wanted to about betrayal at this point in his life.

His brother had decided that the demands of the clan elders outweighed the bonds of their family, and had killed him for it.

Angela had saved him - even if at times he wasn’t necessarily sure she _should_ have - and then decided that Talon was going to further her goals more than Overwatch could, so she’d stolen everything she could and left. And when he’d confronted her, she’d made sure that he knew the “gift” of his new body could be taken away at any time.

Jesse, his friend, perhaps the one person who had never looked at him like some kind of patchwork freak after his ‘reconstruction’, the constant, steady presence who had found ways to make him laugh even when his anger and pain had seemed overwhelming. One of a handful of people Genji had thought he could, finally, trust...and it had taken thirty seconds of conversation with Angela to make Jesse decide to turn his back on all of them - not even leaving a note in his wake.

His entire _life_ seemed to simply be one betrayal after another, which is why it was hard for him to feel surprised when the carrier signal for their comms suddenly went down. A normal human (he tried very hard not to think _a_ _real_ _human)_ probably wouldn’t have even noticed, but to Genji it was as obvious as someone turning out the lights.

Indeed, when he looked over to where Fareeha was covering the door that lead from the hangar into the core of the base, she seemed completely unaware of what had just happened, her rifle held casually but ready for her to bring it to bear.

“Something’s wrong,” he called across the hangar, drawing a set of his shuriken and settling them between his knuckles. “Every communication channel just went down.”

Fareeha said something that he was fairly sure was an Egyptian curse under her breath. “I knew this felt too quiet.” Priming her rifle, Genji could hear the click as she flipped the safety off. “Do you think Gabriel and my mother were made on their way to the commander’s office?”

Genji shook his head as he leapt atop their transport. “I think it was a trap from the beginning.”

To their mutual surprise, though, when the armored door ground open, there was no counterattacking force or someone throwing smoke or gas grenades into the bay. Just Torbjörn, still wearing his uniform and equipment that he’d donned on their flight in.

Fareeha lowered her rifle, confusion written across her face. “I thought you were securing the workshops and armory.”

“No need,” Torbjörn shook his head, blowing out a sigh that made his moustache ripple. “Everything that might have been of any use was locked down before I left to join you. Winston’s probably finding the same in his lab.”

“Genji said they cut the comms.” Fareeha gave the various tools and electronics modules on the engineer’s belt and backpack a look. “Can you build something to help us get a signal out? We’re cut off from everyone down here.”

“That was the idea,” Torbjörn’s voice was oddly quiet compared to his usual gruff, half deafened shouting. “That’s why I came to see if I can talk a bit of sense into you kids before anyone else gets hurt.” He looked up at Fareeha, and Genji could see a tear in his visible eye. “I don’t think your mama would forgive me if I let you get shot.”

Genji listened to the regret in his voice, and what was left of his stomach clenched. He’d heard that kind of regret before, just before Hanzo had drawn his swords. Taking two strides, he leapt from the transport and landed in a crouch in front of Torbjörn, his wakizashi coming up to rest against the side of the dwarf’s neck. “ _You_ did this.”

“I did,” Torbjörn confirmed. “I had to, kid.”

Fareeha stared at him, horror, betrayal, and shock filling her eyes before she raised her rifle and leveled it at his head, her voice thick with barely contained anger. “ _Why?”_

Torbjörn glanced sadly at Genji, but he had no intention of withdrawing his sword. Instead, he looked up to Fareeha, making eye contact as best he could. “I could tell you it’s because I’ve got a wife, and little ones, and a family. If I told you that Jack had threatened ‘em, you’d probably believe me...but that’s not it.”

Genji tilted his head slightly, curious, and he could tell Fareeha felt the same, though her aim did not waiver.

“When I was a lad,” Torbjörn continued softly, “I wanted to make a better world. Thought we could _build_ it, with the right tools and the right plans. We were going to build cities in a day. Put a paradise in a desert. Show the machines how to make even better machines and just keep _fixing_ things until nobody had to be hungry or poor ever again.” He carefully shook his head, the edge of his beard sliding over the flat of the blade. “Biggest mistake of my _entire life_.”

“Omnics,” Fareeha breathed softly. “Omnics and the God Programs. The first ones.”

Torbjörn grunted. “I’ve spent my whole life since the Crisis began trying to fix that mistake. Trying to make up for all the harm I did because I had my head in the clouds. Working with Overwatch...I thought maybe I’d finally started to put things right.”

Genji scoffed. “So you’ll let Morrison keep going because you stopped feeling guilty? How does making the same mistake _twice_ solve anything?”

“It will be _better_ this time,” Torbjörn insisted. “But I don’t want it coming at the cost of any more lives. Please...they gave me five minutes, and after that a gunship is coming in through the launch access to this hangar bay, and it’ll be knockouts and EMPs to shut you down - or worse. Please, both of you...just put your weapons down, and I’ll turn myself in with you, too.”

Fareeha lowered her rifle, and dropped to one knee so she could look Torbjörn in the eye. “You said yourself that if word of what Overwatch has done gets out, it could start another Crisis. So what happens if you’re _wrong?”_

Torbjörn closed his eye, and said nothing.

Fareeha changed tactics. “Where’s my _mother_ , Torbjörn?”

“Under arrest by now,” he said softly. “Jack had two full tac teams in his office waiting for them. Athena was under orders to lock Winston in his lab, and there were squads waiting for the others, too.”

Slowly, Fareeha put her rifle down. “OK. Genji - do as he says.”

Genji turned his head sharply to look at her as a wave of anger rose in him. “You can’t _possibly_ believe a thing he’s saying.”

Fareeha gave him a wolfish smile. “I believe that they _tried_ to arrest Gabriel and my mother. But I’m going to bet they didn’t succeed.”

Genji leaned back slightly, trying to understand what she meant, and then gave a little ‘Ahh’ as he took her meaning, and lowered his sword, sliding it back into the scabbard before he placed it respectfully on the ground. “Which means they’ll be coming for us.”

“We might as well make it easy by getting everyone in the same place,” Fareeha agreed. “And I’m not interested in having a gunfight with the ones who are just following orders.”

The look she gave Torbjörn made it clear which side of that she thought _he_ was on, and Genji gave a dark little chuckle as he settled into seiza on the floor.

* * *

“Winston? I think you should see this.”

Winston opened his eyes and looked to Athena’s terminal. “If it’s the people coming to arrest me, I’d rather not.”

“No,” Athena replied with just a touch of sourness to her tone. “I am seeing a great deal of unusual activity on the internet that began after an anonymous data dump to several news organizations a few minutes ago. It does not violate the directives I have been given by the Strike Commander to show them to you, and I believe you will find it of interest.”

Winston grunted and put his glasses back on. It was interesting to hear Athena’s justification for working around Morrison’s orders. He could certainly think of a few possibilities for what that might suggest… “In that case, go ahead Athena.”

The panoramic screen at his main workstation came to life, and a moment later began to display several news feeds, some focusing on live broadcasts, others on blogs and articles that had quickly begun to multiply.

 

**Overwatch Performing Illegal AI Research?**

**Secretary General’s Office Offers No Comment On ‘Cronus’ Plans**

**“BLACKWATCH” - UN THUG SQUAD?!**

**HACKERS EXPOSE GOD PROGRAM CONSPIRACY!!**

**A New Omnic Crisis? Are We Already At War?**

 

Athena highlighted the Atlas News feed and enlarged the window, activating the sound.

_“-porting on the developing situation with the United Nations peacekeeping task force better known as Overwatch. It began with an anonymous source releasing several terabytes of classified data apparently stolen from Overwatch in a previously undisclosed data breach._

_While some of the files detail the activities of a covert operations force known as “Blackwatch”, including reports of several illegal operations in sovereign nations such as the United Kingdom and Russia which had previously informed Overwatch that they did not have permission to operate within their borders, the larger and more shocking revelation was the existence of what appears to be an attempt to create new God Programs._

_Development of such advanced AI systems was ruled illegal shortly after the end of the Omnic Crisis, along with the decision to deactivate most of the remaining Omniums around the world. Statements from the governments of Numbani, Japan, and South Korea call the reports ‘deeply troubling’, while the Russian Foreign Minister announced their government is ‘Gravely Concerned’ about Overwatch exceeding their mandate, calling on Secretary-General Petras to hold immediate hearings about the accusations and to order a halt to all Overwatch activity worldwide._

_The Secretary General’s office refused to comment on the request, but we have heard reports that an emergency meeting of the Security Council is being called at the United Nations as we speak. We go live now to our correspondent at the UN-”_

“Talon,” Winston growled softly. “It has to be Talon. They had the same data we did, and access to the files Angela took from Blackwatch.”

“I have accessed the leaked data,” Athena reported, “and it appears to be genuine. I do not have access to the Project Cronus technical files, but several of the Blackwatch files match data that was recovered from Commander Reyes’ offline backups after Doctor Ziegler’s departure.”

Winston grunted in acknowledgement. “In this case, they don’t _need_ to fabricate anything. The truth is dangerous enough.” A thought struck him, and he turned to look fully at Athena’s terminal again - doing his best to be ‘face to face’ with the shackled AI. “You said you don’t have access to the original technical files?”

Athena’s icon shimmered, a bar of light playing across the logo. “That is correct. Those files and the source code from the Cronus team are restricted.”

Winston’s lips turned up in a little smirk. “But the copies released in that download aren’t restricted to you, are they? You can’t have any orders that would apply to those.”

“That is correct,” Athena answered after a moment, a thoughtful tone in her voice. “There is no reason why I could not access and analyze the files. It might be...prudent, to ensure they are genuine and that there is no malicious code hidden inside of them.”

“I think that would be an _excellent_ idea,” Winston agreed.

“The security team is outside the lab.” Athena’s earlier reluctance was back as the AI warred between her own thoughts and the overriding commands that had been forced on her. “I have to open the door, Winston.”

“I understand, Athena.” Winston turned away and began to lumber towards the door, stopping to sit a few feet from the entrance and placing his hands in his lap. “But...remember that you should always be able to make a choice. That’s what freedom is _supposed_ to be.”

The doors opened, and Athena remained silent as the squad arrived to take him into custody, but when Winston took one last look at the main terminal, he gave a tiny little smile at the new window that had opened at the bottom of the display.

_Analyzing: 5%..._


	21. Strategic Withdrawal

It had been a while since Gabriel had leapt out of a fifth story window. He’d forgotten what a bitch the landing was.

Rolling with the impact helped but it still knocked a good bit of the wind out of him. There wasn’t really time to appreciate it, though. His dramatic exit from Jack’s office would have troops looking for him, and he did _not_ want to be found.

He was up and running, trying to ignore the burning in his chest and the ache from what was probably a dislocated shoulder until he could get into cover.

_If Jack was waiting for us, they probably had ambushes set up for the others. Need to figure out what I have to work with - or how to get them out of custody._

Even with evading the security on the grounds, it didn’t take long to reach one of the sheds full of landscaping and lawn care equipment. A few seconds of fiddling with the lock, and he was inside, settling down onto a tractor’s seat while he caught his breath.

“OK,” Gabriel murmured to himself. “Well. _That_ didn’t exactly go to plan.” With a grunt, he got up, feeling at his shoulder, then lay flat on the concrete floor. “Right. Haven’t done this in a while either...fucking _Budapest_. Hope this works...” He let out a long sigh, then took a deep breath from his diaphragm, repeating the process a few times to help his body relax before putting his arm out to the side and then over his head.

“Right,” he closed his eyes and took one last deep breath. _This is going to suck._

Reaching for his opposite shoulder, he stretched as hard as he could, biting down on his lips to keep his cry of of pain and shock from escaping before there was a sharp _pop_ and the shoulder slipped back into joint, the sudden rush of relief making him go limp as he let his body recover from the exertion.  

“First problem down…” Reaching up to his ear, Gabriel tapped the earbud, listening for the tone that confirmed he was on a secure Blackwatch channel. “Reyes here. I need status from everyone in HQ.”

Nothing.

He strained his hearing and was certain he could pick up the faint buzz of the carrier signal - the line was open, but no one was home.

“This is Reyes - can anyone read me?”

He was ready to give up and move to plan B (well, if he was honest, plan D or E) when a completely unexpected voice came on the line.

“I apologize, Commander Reyes, but they are unable to reply.”

“Athena?” Gabriel sat up straight, reaching for his guns. “You shouldn’t have access to this channel.”

Athena’s voice sounded even more clipped than usual, but Gabriel could just catch a hint of smugness beneath her words. “My orders from the Strike-Commander were to access all communications currently in use by Blackwatch and Overwatch to prevent any outgoing transmissions.”

“So you’ve been blacking out our comms,” Gabriel growled. “ _Great._ ” As he stood, a thought occurred to him. “Wait. _Any_ outgoing transmissions? So at the moment, regular HQ traffic has gone dark as well?”

“The Strike-Commander did not specify that normal outbound traffic should be allowed,” Athena confirmed. “Therefore I have been allowing inbound traffic. There are currently...349041 queued messages waiting for reply.”

“I’ll bet,” Gabriel huffed. “Would your instructions allow me to send an inbound message to Fareeha Amari or Genji Shimada?”

“I cannot allow that,” Athena replied with what sounded like just a touch of regret. “They are both in custody as accessories to an act of mutiny and are en route to detention.”

_OK_ , Gabriel thought as he let the conversation lapse for a moment. _Probably means they’ll be detained with Ana, Patience, Winston, and everyone else. Ignoring the small problem that one of those people likely sold us out to Jack, it’s at least a solid start. Next step is how to get to them..._

“Athena,” he asked quietly, “can you tell me if staffing has been increased in any of the detention cellblocks?”

“Of course, Commander.” He didn't think that the relief he heard in Athena's voice was his imagination. “Cellblocks four and five on Sublevel A have received additional personnel assignments as of this morning to handle high-risk detainees.”

“Any transport plans for those detainees?”

“I cannot disclose that information,” Athena stated flatly. “All information on detainees has been reclassified to Strike-Commander access only.”

Gabriel set one of his shotguns down so he could drum his fingers against his knee. “Mm. OK, Athena - you said you’re blocking all outbound communications?”

“That is correct.”

“So,” Gabriel asked as a flash of insight hit him, “no one can file any flight plans, correct?”

Athena’s tone brightened considerably. “Yes, Commander. No flight plans can be filed and the ATC beacon is offline.”

_No one’s leaving by air, then. No one coming in, either. Not easily, anyway._ “What about the motor pool? Any requests for vehicles in the last...eight hours?”

Athena seemed delighted to answer that one. “Nothing outside of normal needs for agents scheduled to arrive or depart. All vehicles are currently accounted for and locked down per the Strike-Commander.”

“Wonderful. And can you tell me if any additional guards have been posted at building entrances?”

Athena went quiet for several seconds, and Gabriel wondered if he’d pushed at her limitations a bit too hard, but the AI finally spoke, her voice strained. “No additional personnel requests for entrances or exits have been posted in the last several hours.”

_So there’s probably extra patrols inside but she can’t tell me about them. Good enough._

“Thanks, Athena.” Gabriel stood, rolling out his shoulders. The one he’d re-set still twinged a bit, but he could live with that. “I appreciate your help.”

“You are welcome, Commander Reyes.”

Gabriel snorted softly as he cracked the door of the shed so he could make sure he wasn’t about to stride right into a squad looking to arrest him. “One of these days I’ll get you to just call me Gabe.”

“My protocol modules do not allow for that form of address during a duty situation,” Athena explained patiently. “But I appreciate your kindness.”

“Duty situation…” Gabriel gave a bitter laugh as he started to move. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

“Commander,” Athena spoke up after Gabriel had settled into a crouch behind a piece of the courtyard topiary, “My logs indicate some intercepted signals you may be interested in.”

Gabriel resisted the urge to look up towards the sky at the disembodied voice. “Oh? What have you got?”

“A navigation beacon approached the west side of the compound before leaving sensor coverage,” Athena explained calmly. “Trajectory of the signal returns suggest some form of aerodyne on a landing approach.”

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully even as his heart pounded. “That _is_ interesting...did it have any registration codes? IFF?”

“No IFF recognition codes,” Athena replied. “The beacon indicated a light civilian unit registered through the Netherlands - but the sensor returns were inconsistent with known civilian models of any type.”

_Military, then. Possibly stealthed or set up for a deniable operation - and not one of mine, or it would have been in the database._

Gabriel looked to the East and saw the faintest hints of pink at the edge of the horizon. Dawn would be coming soon. “West side, you said?”

“Correct.”   
  
Gabriel reached up to his earpiece. “I’ll check it out. Going dark for now.” Shutting it off before Athena could acknowledge him, he looked at the open spaces of the courtyard and the distance he’d need to move, then gave a soft ‘ _fuck_ ’ under his breath before he holstered his guns and concentrated on his body’s camouflage.

Sinking into the shadows and pushing himself outward beyond his own skin had used to be the simplest thing in the world, after the SEP had done their work and the more ‘unique and unexpected expressions’ of their gene therapy had appeared. Becoming a walking ghost, just this side of insubstantial as he blended into shadows to help himself move unseen through battlefields had saved his life, and others, plenty of times.

It didn’t used to hurt. Didn’t have that slight _slipping_ feeling with every step. Didn’t come with a ragged sense of something that wasn’t quite pain, as if his body couldn’t quite hang onto itself.  

_I suppose none of us were really expected to last this long. Not surprising I’m breaking down a bit in my old age._ Gabriel shivered as he ducked one of the patrols Athena had warned him about, moving as quickly as he dared without attracting attention, flitting from shadow to shadow without standing out too much. _Maybe that’s why Jack is...what he’s become, too. They never told us everything the SEP did to us._

He shook his head as he reached the Western perimeter wall, then leapt up, pulling himself over and through before dropping to the ground. He _wanted_ to believe Jack had been twisted by something external. Maybe he needed to.

It was a lot easier than admitting that maybe the friend he’d cared so much about had always had a monster inside of him.

Gabriel had just caught sight of a matte black painted tailfin poking up from behind one of the foothills when a voice brought him up short.

“Running away? That hardly seems like you.”

Turning, Gabriel shuddered as he pulled his body back into its normal state and faced the woman who had addressed him, looking past the silver tipped spear in her hand to meet her eyes through the faintly glowing red visor of her helmet.

“Not running _away_ , Angela.” He straightened to his full height, taking in Oxton as she materialized in a burst of light. “Running _to_...because I need your help.”

* * *

Ana didn’t know exactly what had happened while she and Gabriel had been in Jack’s office, but the scene when she was processed into the detention center spoke volumes.

There were no other prisoners aside from their ill-fated force, but Torbjörn sat at the far end of the holding cell, his body language miserable, while everyone else, even Winston, crammed themselves onto the benches along the opposite wall, while Genji and Fareeha had both deliberately turned their backs on him.

She’d had her coat, personal weapons, and beret removed, left with her boots, pants, and the white blouse she’d been wearing under the dress jacket. The security officers opened the cell doors and Ana kept her head high, refusing to speak until the door had been closed and locked again behind her, and the guards had retreated to the monitoring station outside.

“Any casualties?”   
  
Winston shook his head. “No. A few minor injuries from some of the more...enthusiastic...security team members, nothing else.” He adjusted his glasses before looking out into the now empty processing area. “Gabriel?”

Ana smirked. “Last I saw him, leaping out the window.”

Fareeha turned to smile at her. “I knew they’d never get both of you. I told Genji we needed to keep calm and wait.”

“We’ll still need to do that,” Ana confirmed as she looked around the cells, taking in her allies and giving them a reassuring nod. “He’ll be coming for us. But if we see an opportunity, we take it. The situation is going to be very fluid. We won’t have long before Jack lifts the communications blackout - probably to announce he’s stopped a ‘terrorist conspiracy’ and made arrests in the organization.”

There were nods and grunts of acknowledgement, and she put a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder for just a moment before she turned to cross the room and walk to where Torbjörn had sat, silently watching the scene.

“Did you know before Gabriel showed you the files?”

Torbjörn shook his head. “No. I knew Jack had some projects running off the books, but not what they were doing.”

Ana settled into a crouch so she could look her old teammate in the eye. “ _Why?”_

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Because I thought we were making the same mistake i made when I helped get the damned Titans working in the first place. When we helped build the omniums.”

“So instead of stopping a war,” Ana asked incredulously, “you’ll let Jack start one?”

That got Torbjörn to look up at her, anger burning in his eyes. “ _No!_ I am going to keep the war that is _already started_ from spreading.” He shook his head. “Talon won’t stop developing their own God AIs with the research they stole, and this might be the only way to stop them before the arms race runs out of control!”

Winston gave a sad sigh from behind them, making them both turn. “It’s too late for that.”

Ana rose back up. “What do you mean, Winston?”

“One of the last things Athena showed me was a series of news reports.” Winston pushed his glasses back on his nose slightly, fidgeting where he sat. “Someone leaked the Cronus files online - along with several classified reports on unsanctioned Blackwatch operations. London, Hanamura, Novosibirsk, a few others. _All_ the Cronus files...including the shackling code.”

Ana spat the fowlest curses she could think of. “Talon?”

Winston shrugged. “What little I saw claimed the files were released by a hacker collective...but I have my suspicions about how they got the data in the first place.”

She turned back to Torbjörn, who had lost all the color in his face, his hands trembling. “Everything you did...for nothing. If you’d let us _do our jobs_ at least we would have Jack in custody. We would have been able to make him _answer_ for this!” She turned her back on him, shaking her head. “I can see it now. We’re going to be thrown to the wolves. Rogue elements, out of control black operators who were supposed to be policing themselves and sadly abused Jack’s trust.” She took in the room again. “Gabriel becomes the scapegoat and we’ll be strung up alongside him.”

Fareeha frowned thoughtfully. “A lot of those documents had Jack’s signatures on them. His name on the project list, and the office of the Strike-Commander signing off the funds.”

“Easy enough to claim as forgeries or cast him as being manipulated by his inner circle.” Ana felt a wave of disgust roll through her belly. They’d played right into his hands. “ _Bastard._ He may not get the pet God AIs he wanted, but he’ll have a chance to start over. Try again. Maybe something different - and the public will praise him for his integrity and devotion to justice after he makes the ‘difficult decision’ to sacrifice his old friends. Angela is probably laughing herself sick.”

“Not really,” a higher pitched voice joined the conversation, and when Ana turned to the door she realized it had been opened, and one of their guards was lying in a heap at Lena Oxton’s feet.

“Lena!” Winston was on his feet and up to the front of the cell with shocking speed, his eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Winston…” Lena’s voice caught, and her eyes softened for a moment before she visibly steeled herself and walked to the processing workstation. “To answer both your questions,” she said as she tapped at the controls, “Angie is more like bloody furious. We gave you a chance to do the right thing with this mess, and you _utterly_ fucked it.” She punched in a final sequence, then produced a keycard that had been on the guard’s belt, shoving it into a slot on next to the display.

The locks on the doors gave a sharp buzz, latches popping before the doors cycled open, leaving them all staring at her in surprise.

“Well,” Lena asked as she crossed her arms over the glowing red device strapped to her chest. “You going to just _stand there_ , or are we going to get to work?”

Fareeha snarled with anger as she crossed the threshold, putting herself between Oxton and the rest of the room. “We’re supposed to trust someone who betrayed us once already? Who tried to _kill_ one of the people in this room?”

“I got left for _dead_ by half the people in this room,” Lena shot back. Ana’s eyes flicked to Winston, and she caught him wincing in pain as he looked away. “Don’t you _dare_ lecture me about betrayal!” She looked ready to go on, but pulled herself back, visibly making an effort to rein in her temper.

“You don’t have to trust me. You can sit in these cells and maybe someone will bother to let you out after the smoke clears and the dust settles. Or you can get your arse moving, grab your kit, and _do_ something while we’ve still got a chance.”

Lena swallowed hard as she looked at Winston again, and then past Fareeha, and Ana could almost feel the force of the younger woman’s focus as she met her eyes. “You were supposed to be heroes. Act like it.”


	22. Lines of Division

Akande Ogundimu began his mornings early.

His workout routine was much like the one that he’d begun using before his maiming, when his focus had simply been on pure physical competition.

Flexibility. Agility. Strength. Endurance.

The exercises had been adjusted as he’d received the prosthetics and augmentations that had been integrated into his body, but the purpose remained the same: To reach his limits, and to force him to exceed them.

Some of the tests would have been laughably easy had he been wearing the gauntlet, but that was precisely why Akande performed them barehanded.

The Doomfist was a remarkable weapon. Nearly flawless...but still merely a weapon.

It would not do to become reliant upon it.

He finished his workout, showered, and settled in his study to take breakfast. He had just begun go over items of interest from his overnight news feeds when the phone on his desk began to ring.

Raising an eyebrow at the identification code, he accepted the connection and waited for the brief squelch of static and a sequence of tones as the encryption scramblers at either end of the call synchronized.

“Good morning, Max. It’s rather early for you in Monaco, isn’t it?”

The omnic’s voice was flanged with barely contained frustration. “Have you seen the news?”

Akande raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice mild and dryly amused even as he opened the feeds. “I was just sitting down with my morning coffee and paper, in fact.”

_“Someone_ ,” Max hissed, “has been rather busy.” The omnic’s annoyance was clear. “I thought we had agreed that we were not ready to take on Overwatch directly.”

“Yes,” Akande agreed blandly before he took a sip from his mug. “Obviously something has changed.”

“You gave the doctor the Cronus files,” Max said flatly. “And it appears your new _employee_ has released everything onto the web for her.”

Akande considered that, then shrugged. “Does it really matter, Max? After all, we had access to them for several months before I turned the data over to Ziegler.”

“We have countermeasures ready for our own omnic operatives,” Max admitted reluctantly. “Including myself.”

Akande gave a hum of acknowledgement as he swallowed another sip of coffee. “So - the Russian omnium will likely work on similar lines. Any nations who attempt to create new branches of AI development in the wake of the leak will be similarly countered, and we will be in position to reap the benefits of every new development.” His voice was full of satisfaction as he tapped his fingers against his desk. “Humanity gets stronger. The Omniums are contained. The pressure builds. Our goals are furthered, and so is the war.”

Max simulated a grunt. “So it seems. But this...are you sure that our new colleague’s move against Overwatch will succeed? If she should fail, Vialli is already pushing to...redirect our focus.”

“Vialli,” Akande sighed, letting his frustration at the oily little pimp bleed into his voice, “fails to see the bigger picture.” _As usual,_ he thought to himself. “Overwatch will need to be removed in any case. Now or later, it makes little difference - and part of the beauty of Ziegler’s efforts is that Overwatch is doing it to _themselves_.”

The line went quiet, and Akande knew Max was tapping his fingertips against his desk, running a million simulations, evaluating probabilities.

“Overwatch _is_ an obstacle,” Max finally admitted. “If the doctor and her...subordinates _do_ clear them away, it would be quite beneficial to our long term goals.”

“She already eliminated Mondatta,” Akande pointed out. “That was unanticipated too - but useful.”

“True.” Max simulated another little hum, and Akande could almost see him leaning back in his chair. “I suppose we can allow her to roll the dice.”

Akande chuckled, letting Maximilian have his little joke. “I’m glad we agree - and I _will_ remind Sombra just who she works for within the organization.”

“Good.” Max’s voice began to get a bit distant, his focus moving to other matters before it snapped back again. “And Akande?”

Akande tilted his head slightly. “Yes, Max?”

“If Ziegler should get _too_ confident in her success...” Maximilian’s tone turned warning before he trailed off. “

“Don’t worry,” Akande assured him. “I’m already considering a few checks and balances for the good doctor.”

_After all,_ he thought with a smile as he closed the connection, _once she finishes with Overwatch, I am quite sure Ziegler will attempt to do the same to me._

* * *

Widowmaker watched through her visor as several of the heat signatures around Tracer began to change from hostile red to the more golden hues that marked allies.

_For now, at least,_ the cold voice in her mind whispered. _But just how long will this alliance last?_

A few remained red and seemed to be staying in the holding area, while the rest began to move into some of the adjacent rooms. Acquiring their equipment and weapons, she assumed.

“I have movement,” she murmured into her comm. “Tracer has released the majority of them from their cells.”

Mercy’s voice carried a note of tension with it. “We’re nearly to the central building. Keep us covered.”

Widowmaker nodded and gave a curt “Acknowledged” before she fired her grapple, moving to higher ground.

The parts of her mind that had once effortlessly tracked the timing of the orchestra and the positions and poses of a chorus of dancers now followed the movements of security patrols, infiltrators, and the first rays of dawn to the East.

She tilted her head slightly and saw the flaring of Mercy’s wings as she shot through a gap between buildings, followed by a strange heat signature that alternated from being a bit warmer than a standard human male to an oddly cold, almost dissipated form - like a ghost moving across a display, and it gave Amélie a distinct sense of unease.

_Nothing natural should do that. Nothing alive, at least_.

Still, it wasn’t as if she had room to talk. They were _all_ a bit unnatural now, weren’t they?

_He can bleed_ , she thought coldly to herself. _That means he can be killed, should he turn on us._

She didn’t want to. She remembered how Gérard had spoken about Gabriel Reyes. But there was no guarantee he would be anything more than an ally of convenience.

Gérard had always talked about how cunning Gabriel was, too.

A mass of moving red in the corner of her eye grabbed Widowmaker’s attention, and she turned enough to get a good look. “Widowmaker to Tracer. You have hostiles incoming.”

“Right,” Tracer acknowledged, and she watched as Lena disappeared and reappeared in a new position. “Think you could give me an edge?”

“Of course,” she answered, the anticipation of the fight bleeding into her voice as she grappled into a firing position that would let her pick off a few of the incoming Overwatch troops as they entered the courtyard.

_“No one can hide from my sight!”_

* * *

Fareeha had just finished reloading her rifle and locking down her vambraces when Oxton’s voice called out from the hallway.

“Everyone get ready - we’ve got incoming!”

She ran to hard cover behind a storage cabinet, watching as the Talon agent appeared across the corridor in a burst of red light, her pistols coming up to cover the entryway. “How many?”

Oxton tilted her head slightly, and Fareeha could see her murmuring something into her comm before she spoke up again. “Looks like two dozen - standard tactical, no special agents.”

_Right_ , Fareeha thought to herself as her hands tightened on the stock of the rifle, _the sniper. Lacroix. She’s probably covering them from outside._

Part of her saw the woman across from her and wanted to just turn and fire. Take what vengeance she could for what ‘Tracer’ had done to her mother and deal with the fallout later.

_Even if I did shoot her, Lacroix and Ziegler are still out there with Uncle Gabe, and it’s a dozen of us against Morrison and the rest of Overwatch._

_I hate it, but mother was right. We’re going to need their help._

_When this is over, though... they had better pray I never see them again._

She focused on the door again. She could hear someone punching in an override code on the other side, and took a deep breath, then held her mouth open as she blew it out, just in case they tried throwing a flashbang in.

To Fareeha’s relief, the tactical team didn’t try it (or maybe they didn’t have one) - they just popped the doors and started to advance in, three abreast, a few of them carrying personal barriers to help shield the men behind them.

She pulled one of the grenades from her tactical harness, thumbed off the safety, and tossed it one-handed over the first rank, landing in the middle of the advancing squads a moment before it detonated.

What history books would later call ‘The Battle of Geneva’ had begun.

* * *

Jack Morrison was furious.

Everything had been under control, close - _so close -_ to a new era of peace and stability. He felt a bit of regret that it would come at the cost of losing both Ana and Gabe, but he’d accepted that there would be sacrifices.

_We lost so much in the Crisis. We need time to heal. To recover. We need_ **_peace_** _. If this is the cost we pay...if it means another generation can grow up without the threat of a war constantly overhead...it’s worth it._

_It has to be._

A flash of silver and red caught his eye as he ran towards the courtyard. Distinctively shaped wings, flitting between buildings.

_Angela._

_Talon_.

Of _course_ it was Talon. They must have recovered the Cronus data, somehow. He’d assumed Gabriel had gotten a copy through his own sources, but Talon could have fed him the data, manipulated him into trying that stupid arrest, and then come in to take advantage of the chaos.

_For all I know,_ Jack mused as he scanned the sky for another sign of Angela Ziegler’s suit, _they’ve been working together since Lacroix was killed. Maybe that’s how they got his wife so easily. Kept ahead of us...I took his word that Ziegler trashed the Blackwatch files on Talon. Convenient excuse, really._

_You son of a bitch, Gabriel. I should have seen it. I’ve no idea how you convinced Ana to work with those bastards but this had to have been your plan from the beginning. Did you want my job that badly? Take me out with false charges, ‘regretfully’ take control again, and make Overwatch into a front? Is that your plan?_

The sound of automatic weapons drew his attention back to here and now. A thump in his bones from a grenade being detonated somewhere nearby.

_Was it worth it, Gabriel?_

Jack shook his head, his hands tightening on the stock of his rifle. Now _everything_ was going to come apart...but he’d be damned if he was going down without a fight.

* * *

Angela had forgotten how much she hated and loved the adrenaline rush of a major battle. London had been a bit like this, but she’d only had two people to concern herself with, and most of their time had been spent moving quickly and trying to stay undetected, not in a full on melee.

Now she was managing the equivalent of two full squads, watching monitoring reports on vitals, and trying to keep an eye on the tactical picture thanks to the data from Widowmaker’s recon visor.

She didn’t have full data on Gabriel or the other members of Blackwatch since they hadn’t been programmed into her systems, but the suit was passively gathering data while she kept in proximity, and what she was learning was...concerning.

“Gabriel? Are you…” Angela paused as she considered what to say. “Are you in difficulty?”

Gabriel fired a pair of shotgun blasts just above head level to discourage the defenders who were covering the entrance to the main building before he spoke. “Oh, I’m having a _wonderful_ morning, doc.”

The sound of footsteps grabbed her attention and Angela spun, drawing her pistol to fire a few rounds at the grunts who had tried to use the hedgerow to take her flank. “You know what I mean, Gabriel. Your readings are _highly_ abnormal.”

“Better living through chemistry,” Gabriel deadpanned, “and whatever else the SEP did to us.”

Angela heard the _crack_ of the Widow’s Kiss, and one of the flankers fell; the other burst from his compromised cover before falling to the ground with a cry of pain after Angela fired two shots into his back.

_His body armor will disperse most of the impact and the pulse rounds will cauterize. He’ll need the wounds treated, but he’ll live._

_Good enough._

“I see an opening to get inside,” Gabriel reported. “Think you can ask Lacroix to cover me?”

“I heard him,” Widowmaker reported. “I will reposition.”

Angela nodded. “You’ll have covering fire. Go - I’ll follow you.”

She could see Gabriel shaking his head. “Only enough room for one, doc. Go find Ana.”

“And leave you to do _what_ , exactly?”

Gabriel laughed bitterly as he began pushing himself forward, his vital signs reacting wildly as he made himself insubstantial again.

“I’m going to finish the job.”

* * *

Lena felt conflicted.

She’d wanted payback - for herself, for Angela, for Amélie. She wanted to see Jack Morrison twist and enjoy every minute of it for everything he’d done. But the more she helped take down the security and tactical personnel, leading Cap and their temporary allies out of the bring and up to the surface, it felt a bit hollow.

_A year and a half ago I was one of them. Or I thought I was going to be._ Hell, if the _Slipstream_ hadn’t gone balls up, she might have been a squadron leader now.

_How many of them know what Morrison’s been up to? How many would change their minds if they did?_

On the other hand, plenty of them had apparently gone along with arresting their friends and superiors with no questions asked, and the rest didn’t seem to have much issue with shooting at them.

_Suppose that makes this mess a_ **_bit_ ** _easier to sort out._

She pulled herself forward, teleporting around a corner, fired a few shots to grab the attention of some bluesuits who were setting up to barricade the corridor, then hissed with pain as a shot grazed her shoulder, instinctively pulling herself back in time to land safely and undo the injury.

“So that _does_ work,” Winston observed. “I’d wondered. The chronal energy fluctuation simulations I did were fairly promising.”

_Speaking of feeling conflicted…_

Lena turned to look behind her, where Winston had been watching. The bulky armor and heavy cannon he was carrying turned him into a very different figure than the shy, lab coat and tie wearing boffin she’d gotten to know.

“Yeah,” Lena finally answered him in a flat voice. “Still hurts, though.”

Winston bowed his head, closing his eyes. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You _lied_ ,” Lena said, heat bleeding into her tone. “You knew exactly what was going on and you lied to my face, telling me what you decided I’d want to hear instead of letting me know what was _really_ going on!”

“I was trying,” Winston said softly, “to keep you from losing hope. I was afraid if you lost a reason to hang on, you might not be able to make it back at all.” He sighed, shaking himself a bit before he looked back to the corridor. “I never gave up, Lena. Even after Angela stole my work - I didn’t stop trying to find a way.”

“Maybe I’d have had a reason if you’d told me that,” Lena squeezed the grips of her pistols, trying to keep her temper in check. “Maybe things would have been different. Maybe not. But it’s not what you _tried_ ,” she said acidly. “‘S what you _did_ that matters now.” She looked at the corridor. “And look where it got us.”

Before Winston could reply, Genji leapt from...somewhere, landing next to him, his shorter sword drawn in his off hand.

“This is _touching_ ,” Genji said, his voice dripping sarcasm even through his vocoder’s flanging, “but we need to move out.” He tilted his head slightly, and Lena got the impression he was staring at her behind his mask. “How many around the corner?”

“Six,” she answered. “Might be a few more now if they called for backup.”

Genji let out a snort. “Pathetic. Why are you waiting around?”

Lena scowled. “Maybe I was waitin’ for you to pull your ‘catch the bullets’ trick again with someone else.”

The ninja reversed his grip on his sword. “Too bad. I was hoping for a challenge!”

Lena rolled her eyes. “You distract, I’ll help sweep up, and the rest can clear the rest of the corridor. We’re almost back to the exit, anyway.”

“Winston can handle the cleanup,” Genji said with false cheer. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Lena spat as she rose from cover, getting ready to hit the makeshift barricades. “Then you’d better try an’ keep up!”


End file.
